The Family
by messyhead
Summary: Now why would a member of the family steal Oscar's razor? Thanks for reading. Reviews are appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

She learned more about Oscar in the first week of their romance than she had eked out of him in the three years of their friendship. Whether it was the secrecy fused into him through his work or the belief that no one would be interested - or some combination of the two, he had rarely spoken of his personal life.

"Intimate relationship means intimacy, you know. Tell me stuff." Jaime insisted.

And so he complied. She remembered those first days together with great fondness - they were usually reclining, draped over each other - on her couch or his, at the base of a tree in the park, in his bed or hers - and they talked and talked and talked. She drew from him tales of the deep miseries and giddy joys of youth, broken limbs, a broken heart or two, of college antics, old friends and enemies, stories of intrigue from the days in Naval Intelligence, trips to the remotest spots in the world, the steady progression through the halls of power - but nothing surprised her more than the revelation that came late one night. The location was her favorite overstuffed armchair. She was snuggled on his lap and he was leaving town the next day for a week. Neither wanted the evening to end, for it would bring with it the chill of morning and the inevitable goodbye, and then absence...that aching absence. He was telling her something about year seven of his forty-nine on earth, the time he lit a fire in his bedroom closet, and then - just in passing - he made an extraordinary divulgence. "So my sister finds me..."

"Wait a minute." she interrupted. "You have a sister?"

"Yeah." he said, as though it should be patently obvious that he would have a sister. "Anyway..."

No, wait wait wait...a _sister_?" When he tried to continue with the story, she waved a hand in front of his face, stopping him mid-sentence. This sister - why had she never met her and who was she and where did she live and why hadn't he mentioned her, for heaven's sake?

She was Judy Moore. She lived in Portland with her husband Bruce, and their two children - Sam, sixteen...

"You have a _nephew_ named _Sam_!" Her amazement only just trumped her irritation that he had never mentioned these people before.

... and Katie aged nine. Katie had come along late. Judy was an archaeologist - an "Africanist" - and Bruce was a carpenter.

Come to think of it, they had never gotten back to that closet fire story.

Soon Jaime understood that this was not a forgotten or distant sister. They spoke on the phone almost every week. Judy was an integral part of the landscape of his life - a given, likely taken for granted. Sometimes their phone calls irritated him for reasons she didn't entirely understand, but mostly there seemed to be a grudging admiration, a gruff rapport between them - as far as she could tell from Oscar's side of the conversation anyway. Jaime was both intrigued and puzzled - sibling relationships were mysterious to an only child.

Four months later Jaime met the Moores at the rehearsal dinner. So much of the wedding was a happy blur in her memory - she really only remembered an enthused introduction from Oscar, a reserved greeting from a tall dark woman who was unmistakably his sister, and a few friendly words with the rest of the family. Judy had just returned from Africa, Oscar later explained, and had a migraine and possibly a few parasites that needed to be cleared up before she would be likely to charm anyone. His excuses were earnest, his need for Jaime's approval obvious.

It was red-headed Katie who made an indelible impression - the little girl had fallen hard for Jaime and followed her around during the reception, in a state of high worship. Twice Oscar picked her up to dance with them, and though she was a little big for such a gesture, Katie was delighted, grinning and beaming, her coppery hair glinting in the evening light, arms slung around the necks of the bride and groom. Later they discovered she was in eighty percent of the informal wedding photos.

Finally Jaime and the Moores were to meet properly. For three years in a row, Judy and Oscar had hoped to get together to mark an important anniversary - December seventh. Every year they planned it, and every time Oscar had to cancel, held in Washington by one national crisis or another. This time he was determined to make it and Jaime was determined to help him.

On that day in 1941, Pearl Harbor was attacked by the Japanese. Sam Goldman was there, and like so many others, he had gone missing. What made Sam more than a normal casualty of war was that he was on a mission for Naval Intelligence, couriering an enormous amount of money. In the aftermath there were backroom murmurings in the Navy that he used the attack as a cover to steal the cash and disappear. Oscar, certain his brother would do no such thing, had tried and failed for years to uncover what had happened to him.

It was Jaime, working undercover, who finally found out - he had died that day in the attack. With that sad truth established, Sam could finally be laid to rest. When he was buried at sea Judy was unable to attend - she and the family were in Africa at the time on a year long sabbatical, and as a result, they had never since had the opportunity to mark the occasion in any way – until now.

xxxxxxx

As the automatic doors slid open to reveal the arrivals area, it was Katie they spotted first - leaping up and down like a grasshopper, ponytails bobbing, apparently uncontainable in anticipation of their arrival. Her father, standing quietly behind her, broke into a grin. Katie peeled over and flung her arms first around Jaime and then around Oscar.

As Bruce greeted them, Jaime felt like she was getting her first true look at him. At the wedding he had been trussed up in a new suit, his hair tamed, his beard trimmed. This, she could tell, was the real man. Clad in denim shirt and jeans, he was lightly coated in sawdust, his hands dark and rough from woodworking. Wiry red roan hair sprang off his head in a slightly comical way, while the beard, almost white, did the same in the opposite direction. His glasses, also dusty, framed humorous green eyes. He was strong and compact, bearing the beginnings of a paunch.

Katie begged to ride home in the back with Jaime, and was allowed to do so, on condition that she not be too much of a pest.

"Welcome to winter in the Pacific Northwest." Bruce said, flicking his windshield wipers to their fastest setting. Rain dropped from the thick black sky, obscuring all but the bright red taillights in front of them, doubling in reflection on the inky pavement. "Still, it's supposed to be nice tomorrow."

For Jaime, it was soggy but downright balmy. The California girl always found the Washington winters arduous.

While the adults chatted pleasantries about the weather and the trip, Katie admired Jaime, her small, curious hands roving over her, examining her earrings and hair and hands and wedding ring.

"Are you a spy?" she asked breathlessly.

"Katie!" Bruce warned.

"It's okay." Jaime said, taking the warm little hand in hers. "No, I'm not a spy. I work with your Uncle Oscar, but I'm not a spy."

"Well, what do you do then?"

"Sometimes he needs help with ...things...and that's what I do. I help out."

"What kind of things? Are you a secretary?"

"No..." Jaime managed to chuckle, even as she bristled slightly.

"Katie, enough." Bruce said, more firmly this time. "Too many questions. You know you're not supposed to do that."

"Sorry, Katie." Oscar said, turning in his seat. "It really is best if we don't talk about it too much. You can think of it as a service to your country. Sometimes your country has secrets that it needs to keep."

Frowning uncertainly, Katie lapsed into silence.

They pulled off the main road and into a residential neighborhood, heavily treed, warm light emanating from the houses that lined the street. "Oh - just so you know," Bruce said, "Judy's picked up a couple more strays."

"Brenda's not a stray!" Katie protested, having forgotten her discomfort of a moment earlier.

"You know what I mean, Peanut."

"My sister loves a hard luck case." Oscar added, turning to face Jaime.

"Right now we've got Carl - one of her grad students, and Brenda – Brenda doesn't stay with us but she spends a lot of time here. She's Sammy's girlfriend. They won't get in your way too much."

"Sammy has a girlfriend?" Oscar asked incredulously. "Last time I checked he was ten."

"I'm nine!" Katie chimed in. "Sam is sixteen."

"You just saw him three months ago, Bup." Jaime said with a chuckle.

"Takes a lot more than that to pull a fixed idea from my head, Babe."

"Brenda's mom and dad are getting a divorce!" Katie added to Jaime, her eyes wide.

They pulled up in front of a clapboard cottage, unloaded the car, and trotted to the house, hunching through the pouring rain. When Bruce opened the door for them they were immediately greeted by two large hairy mutts, introduced as Fred and Ginger. In true dog fashion they made themselves complete and charming nuisances, winding around, tails wagging, impeding all movement.

Judy appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a tea towel. She was wearing jeans and a long loose blouse. "Hello you two." she said quietly, hugging both guests. Jaime, accustomed to being the tallest woman in any room, figured she was inch shorter than her new sister in law. That had to make Judy substantially taller than Bruce - and Jaime decided that spoke well for him. She noted again what a striking woman Judy was - thick silvery hair framing strong, regal features.

Ascending the basement stairs two by two came Sam - a tall, pimply teenager, all skinny arms and legs, dark lank hair covering his eyes, hands stuffed in his pockets. He grunted self consciously in greeting. There would be a good looking kid in there, Jaime decided, once he emerged from the hair and the shyness and the growth spurts. Her heart went out to him.

Jaime noted the comfy, unkempt living room as they walked by. How unlike Oscar - and how like her own parents. They too had been college professors, and it seemed that order of mammal felt most comfortable surrounded by piles of books and magazines and old newspapers. Shining through the disorder was a beautiful room - glowing mission style furniture (made by Bruce, she presumed) and decorations that were almost entirely African - pots and masks and wall hangings. There were two cats in residence - one snoozing on the arm of the couch, the other luxuriant in an armchair.

Bruce showed them to their room, which normally served as Judy's office. If Jaime had paused to wonder if Bruce might be the messy one, this room cleared up all doubt. The desk was buried, the shelves laden with academic journals. The single clear spot in the room was the bed, freshly folded out from the couch, another a cat curled up in the middle.

"Great." Oscar smiled, dropping their suitcases.

"Just come on out when you're ready. Dinner is on." Bruce said, closing the door behind him as he left.

"God almighty." Oscar grumbled as he surveyed the room for a spot to store his suitcase. "My sister is a pig."

Jaime set hers comfortably on twin stacks of _Scientific American _and made a noise of mock sympathy. "It must pain your poor anal-retentive soul, huh Bup?"

"It does." he replied, shooting her a dirty look.

"I kinda like it." she said. "It reminds me of my parents' house."

"Really?" he said, with interest. "Well that explains a thing or two. You probably can't get enough of Rudy's office either."

"I _do_ like Rudy's office." she said, noting it for the first time.

"She says there's method to her madness, and I guess I believe her." He gingerly placed his bag on top of the piles on Judy's desk. "So..." he added, moving to her and slipping his arms around her waist, "so far, okay? Do you like Bruce? He's a nice guy isn't he?"

"He's a very nice guy." Jaime agreed. "Are you worried? Don't worry. I'm going to get along with everyone just fine. It'll be fun."

In fact she was not being completely truthful. There was something bothering her - just a small something, but whatever it was, she couldn't isolate it. Then again it was probably normal to feel anxious when meeting new family members.


	2. Chapter 2

When they emerged everyone was gathering in the dining room. As they took their seats they were introduced first to Carl the graduate student. Thin, blonde, and pale, he clearly spent a lot of his time hunched over books. For a month now he had been sleeping on Judy's couch because there had been a fire in his apartment. Jaime wasn't sure whether it was real or the power of suggestion, but she could have sworn there was a hint of smoke in the air. Next they met Brenda, a solemn, dark haired girl who slouched over her plate, silently regarding all with large, baleful eyes.

Serving dishes were circulated around the table and everyone helped themselves, except for Bruce, who served both himself and his little daughter, slapping a large portion of the Tex-Mex casserole onto her plate.

"Daddy!" she whined, "That's too much! I wanted to get my own!" Quite suddenly, her face was suddenly bright red and tears brimmed in her eyes. "You always DO that! You ruin everything!" She tapped her feet rapidly on the floor in frustration, and made a sound in her throat that reminded Jaime of a helicopter engine warming up - a hum that rises in pitch, foreshadowing either lift off or a giant fit. Everyone watched this change of humor in dumb amazement. Bruce, to his credit, remained impassive, serving spoon still in hand.

"Time out Katherine." Judy said firmly. "Go. Now."

Katie sat back in her chair and folded her arms. If she could have bolted herself down she would have done it.

"You will not speak to your father that way. He was only trying to help." Judy rose to her feet. "Three. Two…"

Katie stood and turned, kicking both table and chair in one sweeping, petulant motion, and flounced out of the room. "You don't get anything, Mom!" was her parting shot.

Judy, quiet but obviously vastly irritated, followed her out.

"Sorry about that." Bruce said. "She's been a little difficult lately."

"Understatement of the year." Sam grumbled.

Only Bruce seemed completely unfazed by the sound of stern parental words floating back to them from three rooms away. He was wanted to tell his brother-in-law about his new passion - canoe building. The one currently in the shop was his third attempt. The first had been heavy and inelegant, the second too tippy. Sam piped up, and in his unsteady baritone told of how they had dumped in the river the very first time they dipped their paddles into the water.

Judy returned the dining room flushed, her face grim with irritation.

"Oh don't look like that." she said, glaring at her brother.

"What?"

"You look like you've got the vapors."

Jaime suppressed a smile. Oscar had indeed acquired a vaguely sour look during Katie's outburst which hadn't yet faded away.

"This is what children do, Oscar."

"I didn't say anything!" he protested.

"You don't have to." she replied, her manner softening as she sat down and dropped her napkin into her lap. "You probably won't remember but you pulled some stellar tantrums. One minute the nicest little boy you ever met, and the next minute a raging lunatic. In fact, when she does that she reminds me of you."

Sam's dropped his head till his hair provided a screen for the smirk on his face.

Oscar looked to his wife for sympathy. "She's making it up."

"I'm not making it up." Judy retorted, whacking him on the shoulder. "Some older kid was stealing his lunch every day, and he wouldn't tell anyone about it."

"Now that sounds familiar!" Jaime laughed.

"You mean people are still stealing his lunch?" Bruce inquired.

The entire table erupted in a guffaw. "No -" Jaime called out over the hubbub, grinning, "the not telling anybody about it part!"

"I remember that kid." Oscar grumbled. "Billy Frocklidge. He had to be a bully with a name like that. Occasionally I dream of finding him and sending a team, armed to the teeth, to burst into his house in the middle of the night…"

"Honey, it's no use." Jaime said soberly. "I'm sure he ate the evidence a long time ago."

Everyone laughed again, and Jaime basked for a moment in the warmth of the family dinner - silverware clanking, boys shoveling food into their mouths, the passing of plates. It had been a long time since those family dinners with Helen and Jim and Steve.

Still, at this table, with four silent diners (Judy, Carl, Sam and Brenda) and one who was prone to silence (Oscar), conversation didn't flow like a river. Jaime managed to eke some information from Carl about his house fire and the drunken roommate who had set it, and then about the Master's thesis he was completing.

When she asked Judy about her work at the university, Jaime suddenly recognized the source of her discomfort. Judy had not once made eye contact with her – not at the door when they'd met, not when they'd sat down for dinner, and not now, when Jaime had directed conversation to her. It was as though Jaime was the elephant in the room, too painful or too uncomfortable for Judy to acknowledge. This observation produced a small hole of despondency in her stomach and the prospect of the two days visit looked about a month long.

Just then Oscar ran his hand down her neck and smiled at her. She couldn't tell if he sensed what she was feeling or was merely checking in - as he might any old time. Whatever the case, she loved him for it.

Katie appeared at the kitchen door and shuffled to the table, arms hanging limp by her sides, a demoralized look on her face. In a high and nearly inaudible voice, she apologized.

"That's okay Peanut." Bruce said warmly, squeezing her small shoulder as she sat down in front of her laden plate, likely cold. "You'll always be my Peanut, even if you are rancid."

A frown of self pity fluttered over Katie's face, and her mother interjected. "Bruce, don't tease."

Alerted to the delicacy of Katie's mood, Bruce added, "You're not rancid, Peanut. Always freshly roasted and lightly salted in my books." He received for this comment a reluctant smile. "Now you'd better finish your dinner, because we have cherry pie, made by yours truly this very afternoon."

This did the trick. The thunderclouds lifted from Katie's landscape, and she actually managed to eat most of the large helping of food that had so upset her in the first place.

After dessert she was packed off to bed by Judy, who stated that a good night's sleep was a cure for most ills. Sam and Brenda were going to meet friends, followed out the door by Judy's admonishments to be careful, and Bruce's firm demand that Sam be home by midnight. Carl retired to the family room to read, leaving Oscar and Jaime to a game of Scrabble with their hosts.

Unfortunately the game only served to solidify Jaime's observations. Judy teased Oscar in her droll way, and he responded in his usual manner, by looking martyred. They clearly were extremely fond of each other. With Bruce, she was quietly warm. But when Jaime spoke up, Judy invariably turned her attention to her tiles. One of the elderly family cats (Tippy, the brown tabby who had been sleeping on their bed) curled up in Jaime's lap, as if in solidarity. She was grateful.

The game advanced slowly over almost two hours, to the tune of Ginger the dog snoring under the table. The clock ticked. Short conversations sprang up and faded. It occurred to Jaime that she didn't really like Scrabble, especially when certain people (Judy and Oscar, namely) took far too long to make their moves.

By the time the letters had dwindled to a few, she was weirdly rattled and grumpy, and when Oscar leaned over to kiss her she accused him of cheating. She had intended it as a joke, but it came out sounding serious.

"Just kidding." she was forced to say, with a pathetic little laugh.

She won the game handily, circumstances having brought out her latent competitive instincts. Judy came in second, Oscar trailing her by five points. Bruce cheerfully brought up the rear, undone by too many vowels.

When the board was cleared away and Bruce said something about scotch, Jaime announced she was going to bed. She wasn't particularly tired, but had had enough of the slightly uncomfortable social situation, and was more than happy to retire with _The Great Gatsby_, which she had just started.

She had just pulled up the covers around her and opened her book when Oscar quietly entered the room.

"Hey!" she said, "Weren't you going to stay up for a bit?"

"Nah." he replied, heading into the bathroom.

While he brushed his teeth, Jaime reminded herself not to say a word or give off any whiff of discomfort. He didn't need that. Tomorrow was a new day. She stared intently into her book and tried to look deeply absorbed, reading the same paragraph several times over.

He only glanced at her as he changed into t shirt and pajama bottoms and slipped under the covers, the fold-out bed creaking under his weight. Placing his chin on her shoulder, he stared a moment at the page she was supposedly reading, then pulled the book from her grip and snapped it shut.

"Hey!" she protested. "I was reading that and now you've lost my…"

"Page seventy-nine." he said, pulling her into his arms. "I'm sorry about this."

"About what?" she asked, gazing at him with what she hoped was a steady, unclouded expression.

"My sister. I don't know what's with her. She's not the most demonstrative person at the best of times, but when she's uncomfortable she gets ...haughty...or something...I don't know what it is, but I can't stand it, and I have no idea what to do about it."

"I think the problem is me." Jaime said glumly.

"No Babe." he protested, taking her right hand in his left, threading his fingers through hers.

"No, really. I don't think she likes me." She nestled into him, her head against his chest. The steady thump of his heart was reassuring.

"Not possible." Oscar replied firmly. "Everybody loves you, Babe. It's one the of the natural laws of the universe."

"You're sweet, but not everybody, Bup. The prisons are full of people who curse my name daily."

"They don't count. Name one non-criminal who doesn't love you. Hell - even half the damned criminals love you."

Jaime wondered if she was really going to have to call up a list of people who disliked her. It was surprisingly difficult to think of anyone.

"You agree with me." she asserted. "I can tell. You're just trying to save my feelings."

He sighed and kissed her forehead, which she figured was an acknowledgement. "Do you…" he hesitated, "do you think she could be jealous?"

Jaime shrugged.

"She and I have always been close…and having you in my life has changed that…and then there's the fact that Katie would gladly trade her mother in and run off with you."

"Oh, Katie has a little girl crush on me, that's all. But I don't know... I think you'd know better than I if Judy's prone to jealousy."

"Well I'll talk to her tomorrow." he said resolutely.

"No Bup," Jaime replied, sitting up to look him in the eye. "you'd better let me do it. I don't want her to think I'm the kind of woman who hides behind her husband and squeals to him."

"But she's my stupid sister." he said, using exactly the tone he would have used when he was ten. "I know her, and I can cut straight to it."

"Sure, but ultimately, it's going to be my relationship with her. We're stuck with each other, so we'd better sort it out."

He chuckled and gave her one of those sappy, melted smiles he saved just for her. "Is this the part of the mission where I tell you it's too dangerous and you inform me that you're going to do it anyway?"

She loved it when he looked at her like that. "I guess so."

He sighed. "I just wanted this to be a nice weekend for you. I was imagining we would feel like a family."

"Hey!" she replied, giving him a bracing squeeze, "We only just got here. We'll have fun. Don't get that old inboard worry engine going, okay?"

The melted look returned. "Okay."

"And don't be angry with her. The most productive thing you can do is to have a good visit. You don't see nearly enough of them and it's important, okay?"

He smiled and gazed at her for a long moment. "Have I ever told you I think you're a hell of a girl?"

"I believe you have." She grinned. "But I'm always open to hearing it again."

"You're a hell of a girl." he whispered, and then he kissed her.


	3. Chapter 3

The day dawned bright and clear, flooding the room with sunlight, prodding them awake earlier than either would have liked.

Jaime was sitting on the bed combing out her wet hair when Oscar, clad only in a towel, emerged from the bathroom with a puzzled look on his face. Without a word he handed her a small square of blue construction paper. On it was a drawing of a lidded box, carefully but naively done. She returned his frown.

"It was in my shaving kit – where my razor should have been."

"Your razor is gone?" Jaime considered the paper again. "Looks to me like there's only one person who could be responsible for this - judging by the drawing - I'd say somebody roughly nine years old."

"That's what I thought - but why would Katie take my razor?"

"Beats me."

"She can't just come in here and root around in our belongings and take my razor." he said indignantly. "I'm going to have to talk to Judy. It's my new one – the one you bought me."

"Now hold on Bup." Jaime soothed. "She didn't steal it – after all she left us this clue. I don't think she's even trying to cover her tracks."

"Well, what the…?" he sputtered. "I'm going to look like a gorilla by midday."

"You won't look like a gorilla. You'll look...rugged." She waggled her eyebrows.

He gave her a look that was both skeptical and appeased - then a new thought illuminated his expression. "Hey - " He snapped his fingers and sat down beside her. "I just remembered...Bruce and I did a treasure hunt for Katie's birthday a few years ago. It was just like this...pictorial clues that lead to her present."

"You did that?" This is what she loved about him – his charms ran deep and quiet.

"You need not look so amazed."

"That's not amazement. That's my heart melting." Jaime replied, taking his hand. "You know - I bet those kids think you lead a glamorous life. You - and I guess I - have to be a major mystery to them. Maybe this is her way of getting into our world."

"Could be. When Sam was little he used to beg me for stories because he thought I was James Bond. He was a little disappointed when I told him I was more like Bond's boss. Anyway, I obliged with the occasional bedtime story – I always warned him they were a pack of lies, but he loved them and probably believed them. He hasn't made that request in years..." he added, a little wistfully.

"Now that I would like to witness." Jaime said, having before never imagined him in such a scenario.

"So are you up for a treasure hunt?"

"Yup. Could be fun. It's a mission - and we all know how much you love missions."

"No," he said, lifting his index finger for emphasis. "I love sending other people on missions while I sit in the comfort of my office."

"You big rat." Jaime guffawed, giving a firm shove that toppled him backward onto the bed.

"Okay, okay - just this once!" he added, wincing in mock fear.

They opened every box they could find in the room - five file boxes, two cardboard boxes, three gift boxes in the closet and one containing checks in the desk drawer - but they found no further clues. Oscar dressed and left Jaime to dry her hair.

Walking toward the kitchen he could hear Katie pleading with her mother. "Mom, I want you to take me, please? Dad's car is all dusty and it makes me sneeze and he'll call me rancid again." Her request was tinged with that whine - which caused Oscar to grit his teeth.

"Can you ask without that tone in your voice please?" he mother said, her teeth evidently also having been set on edge.

"Good morning!" Oscar said amiably, entering the room.

"Good morning Bup." Judy replied, turning to face him. 'Oh!" she added. "You're unusually unkempt."

"I'm on vacation." Oscar replied, turning pointedly to Katie. "I don't need to shave." In the intervening moments Katie, clad in a pink tutu and tights, had thrown herself into a chair, and was staring into her soggy cereal with a burning intensity.

"For heaven's sake, Katherine!" her mother said. "Posture! You look like you're going snorkeling in your milk."

"Morning, kiddo." he said.

"Morning Uncle Oscar." she peeped guiltily, without looking up.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and ambled into the living room, eying the room for boxes.

"Mom," he heard Katie say in a frank and remarkably adult voice, "would you please drive me to ballet? I think this would be a nice opportunity for us to spend some time together."

He heard Judy laugh. "That's better. Yes, I would be delighted to drive you."

Oscar spotted a small ebony box by the telephone. Just as he lifted the lid and peered into it Judy walked into the room.

"Oscar I've just got to…what are you doing?"

"I'm snooping." he replied defensively.

"Oh. All right." Judy said, slightly taken aback. "Listen, I've got to run Katie in for her ballet class."

"You put her in ballet class?" Oscar's tone was incredulous.

"If there's one thing I've learned in life it's that you should never stand between a little girl and her tutu. Don't you remember my ballet phase?"

"You had a ballet phase?" The image of his earthy sister in a tutu was almost impossible to put together.

"You might have been too young to remember. I loved it for about three months and then I got bored. Anyway, if you two can fix yourselves some breakfast, I'll be back in an hour and a half and we can figure out the day from there. Bruce is preparing some pieces for delivery, so he's probably tied up for awhile. You know your way around the kitchen."

Oscar felt an ridiculous thrum of excitement at the prospect of free time, unobserved by members of the household, with a mystery to solve. He saw his sister off, and just as he closed the door behind them Jaime appeared, discreetly but triumphantly waving another small square of paper. She was accompanied by two jubilant dogs.

"Laundry room." she said, before he could ask the question.

"Such a well trained agent." he murmured, kissing her cheek.

"Where is everybody?"

He explained the respective whereabouts of all the family while frowning at the little drawing. "Is that a stork or a pair of scissors?"

"I think it's scissors."

"That kid can count out a career in art, that's for sure."

Jaime giggled and gave him a light reprimanding whack.

Pouring herself a cup of coffee she prompted him to make the first of his three daily security calls. He had needed reminding lately – that was a memory slip that could produce dramatic consequences. Fortunately this little rigmarole had gotten much easier since he had been given a new state-of-the-art telephone - so small he could carry it in a pocket. Now he could call from just about anywhere at any time and the call flew up to space, bounced off a satellite and landed in Washington at the OSI's Remote Security department. The reception was usually so murky it sounded as though he was actually calling from space, but still - it was fantastic technology. Oscar insisted that one day everyone would have one, but Jaime was skeptical. Who would want one? Who would want to be available to everyone all the time?

Forgetting to make his security check calls was just one indication of Oscar's new laissez-faire approach to that high powered job of his. He still worked like a dog, but he also was getting better at stepping back and taking breaks. "I'm not God stepping out on the third day of creation, Russ." he had said irritably to his favorite subordinate just a few days earlier. "I'm just going out of town for a few days. You can run the show. If the President can take vacations, why the hell can't I?"

"What do you think Katie's up to?" Jaime asked, after Oscar had slipped the phone into his pocket and topped up his coffee.

"I thought we had that all figured out." Oscar replied, joining her at the kitchen table.

"I'm not so sure. She's never done anything like this before?"

"Nope."

Fred and Ginger sat together facing the humans, wagging their tales uncertainly, hoping to be entertained or, better yet, fed.

Jaime scratched Ginger's head absently. "It seems to me that something is bothering Katie. Is she always so intense?"

"Not that I recall. I think of her as having her Dad's nature. I figured she was overexcited because you were here."

"Does it seem to you like she's mad at him?"

"At Bruce? Yeah...maybe." Oscar mused. "She didn't want him to drive her to her ballet lesson this morning."

"Really? And when you've talked to Judy lately she hasn't told you of any…domestic unrest, or anything like that? Nothing's wrong at school?"

"Not that I've heard about."

"Huh." Jaime gazed into the big dog's eyes. "What's up Ginger? You must know."

"Okay Sherlock...Dr. Dolittle, whatever you are..." Oscar said, rising to his feet, "we can theorize later – let's get hunting."

"Indubitably, my dear Watson."

The scissor clue proved easy. The little square of paper was hidden in Judy's office – their bedroom – in a mug on her desk that held scissors and pencils.

Unfortunately, the drawing was harder to decipher this time. It was an irregular oblong shape punctuated by a few dots.

"Rock?"

"Amoeba?"

"Pond?"

"Mango?"

"Potato?"

"Let's start with potato." A peruse of the kitchen yielded nothing, despite the able assistance of the dogs, who poked their noses helpfully into every low cupboard Oscar opened. Then Jaime thought of looking in the basement. The dogs made any attempt to sneak completely futile, thundering down the stairs together, panting happily, toenails clicking on the hardwood. Nonetheless the humans carefully tiptoed past Sam's closed door toward the unfinished part of the basement. It was stuffed with the usual contents of basements, old toys, boxes, tools, shelves of canned fruit and vegetables...and a bag of potatoes. Another clue was placed neatly on top.

This time it was a chair. They crept back upstairs and commenced examining every chair in the house. After half an hour and a thorough re-check, they were forced to admit defeat.

"It must be in Sam's room." Oscar muttered.

"Great." Jaime grumbled.

Judy and Katie arrived home shortly after the investigation had ground to a halt. Two minutes later Carl clanked into the driveway on his ancient ten speed, a thick wad of papers under one arm. Jaime realized she had forgotten that he existed.

He came bearing bad news - Judy's regular teaching assistant had the flu, and was too sick to mark the mountain of essay papers that were due to be returned to students on Monday. Carl would help as much as he could, but he had a commitment in the afternoon, which meant the job would fall back to Judy.

"But we have company!" she cried out to no one in particular. Wandering into the kitchen, she could be heard to hiss, "Damn it all to hell!".

Jaime quickly hatched a plan to take Katie on a hike, and Oscar nodded his assent, just a little reluctantly. He had doubtless not planned to spend the day entertaining a child. It was worth it - a look of desperate gratitude crept on to Judy's face - with a few undisturbed hours she thought she could get the job done - and Jaime wondered if she might have made a dent in the armor.


	4. Chapter 4

Katie was delighted. She scooped a cat from the kitchen chair and clutching him tight cried out in a terrible British accent, "I'm so very happy! Dance with me Edgar, my darling, and we shall run away together!" Edgar hung like a sack in her arms, limp and tolerant.

"Quit hamming and go change your clothes Katie." Judy commanded, a reluctant smile on her lips. "That poor cat."

Katie returned to the kitchen in moments, halfway dressed in sturdier clothing, and proceeded to tie her running shoes, tuck in her blouse and re-ponytail her hair there - as though she was compelled to keep the house guests in sight, should they try to leave without her. "Where's Daddy?" she panted.

"In his workshop I think." Judy replied absently, thumbing the pile of papers now stacked on the kitchen table.

"Are you sure?" Katie's voice was oddly loud.

"No I'm not sure." Judy fixed an irritated look on her daughter.

"Well you should know where he is." she insisted.

"For all I know he might have gnawed through the rope I keep him tied to and is now making a run for it up to Canada." Judy's tone edged toward sarcasm, but her manner was gentle bemusement. "Your Dad comes and goes as he pleases honey. That's the way we do it around here. Now I suggest you go on your hike and leave the fretting to me."

It was decided the dogs would enjoy the outing too, so they were given the entire backseat, while humans sat together in the front. As soon as she was buckled in Katie turned stiff and silent as though it had occurred to her that she was sandwiched between two people from whom she had liberated a personal belonging. She kept glancing furtively at Oscar's unshaven chin. Jaime broke the ice by commencing a game of Punch-Bug, and after whacking both her companions smartly on the arm twice apiece, Katie loosened up and was chattering freely about anything and everything.

From the guidebook Judy gave them they chose an easy hike around the base of Mount Hood, a high snowy peak that floated like a dream in front of them as they drove. When they finally piled out of the car, the dogs bursting forth as though they'd been launched, Katie yelling "Whoo whoo whoo!", Jaime felt a flood of contentment. There was something so wonderful about being in a small herd, everyone bent on having a good time. Children always brought a special enthusiasm.

The air was soft and damp and smelled of earth, the dark wooded trail ahead of them inviting - and surprisingly dry, considering the rain the night before. Jaime glanced way up to the tops of the lofty conifers, the canopy that kept the earth beneath them moist but not soaked.

They set off. The dogs sniffed and explored, while Katie skipped and sang and impressed her companions with her knowledge of ferns and mushrooms and wildflowers. When they stopped midway for a snack of juice and trail mix (provided by Judy), she told them an Indian legend she had read in school, which she recited in reverential tones, complete with dramatic hand gestures and wide eyes.

Jaime found her to be an endearing character – diverse in her interests, bright and curious. She could tell Oscar was enjoying her too. He had a quizzical, admiring look on his face. While Katie amused them they walked hand in hand in happy silence. When undistracted by OSI business Oscar had a sweet serenity to him which Jaime adored.

How often she had dreamed a scenario like this one – a walk in the woods with a beloved husband and a child or two…except of course, in her dream the children were her own. She felt a pang in her breastbone and suppressed a sigh. As much as she loved children they were not in the cards for her. She wasn't even sure she could have children after that accident - and on top of it she had chosen to marry a practical man who sensibly figured he was too old to start a family.

However these moments of melancholy came infrequently and went quickly. She turned her attention outward. "What do you want to be when you grow up, Katie?" she asked.

"Well um..." she said, reverting from a skip to a walk, "maybe a ballet dancer or a veterinarian, or a famous scientist...or maybe a spy...or maybe a teacher – like you!" She beamed at Jaime.

"Not an archeologist?" Oscar inquired.

"No way!" Katie cried. "Too dirty. Too dirty and too boring! Mom and Dad like doing dusty things. I don't want to do yucky dusty things."

When Oscar and Jaime laughed she looked pleased and amazed to have brought amusement to the adults.

A minute later Oscar made his second call to Washington, which Katie watched with rapt attention.

"Cool." she whispered and then she skipped off ahead of them. A moment later she skipped back, flushed with inspiration. "Let's play a game!" She herded Jaime about twenty feet down the trail and urged Oscar to stay back. They were to continue walking like this - isolated from one another, and Katie would be the "host" and ask them questions.

She trotted to her uncle and addressed him while walking backwards, pretending to hold a microphone.

"Uncle Oscar." she said, "If we were to ask your wife what the most embarrassing moment was on your wedding night, what would she say?"

Oscar's eyebrows shot up. "Uh…I don't know."

"Please, think harder." Katie said soberly into her invisible microphone before pointing it back to him.

For the life of him he couldn't think of anything particularly embarrassing, except for the nudging and winking and tapping of glasses with spoons designed to make them kiss. "When I stepped on her foot when we were dancing." he said finally, recalling the scuff he had left on her shoe.

"Kay." Katie skipped down the path toward Jaime who was obediently strolling a good distance in front of them, trying not to eavesdrop. "Jaime!" she cried, panting slightly. "Question number one. What was the most embarrassing moment on your wedding night?"

"Hmm." Jaime said gamely. "What if there wasn't anything to be embarrassed about?"

"No, there was!" Katie insisted.

"Okay. Ah…oh, I know. I accidentally jammed my finger into the cake as we were cutting it because I lost my balance. Remember that?"

"That's not what Uncle Oscar said!" Katie cried, looking stricken. "He said it was when he stepped on your toes dancing."

"Oh yeah." Jaime replied, perplexed by the little girl's intensity. "Okay."

"Let's try another one!" she bellowed, as she ran back to Oscar. "We're trying another one!"

She hadn't quite formulated a question so she walked beside him for some time repeating, "Uncle Oscar….um…um…." He couldn't help but laugh watching her lost in her role - so serious and so intent.

"Yes, Katie?"

"Uncle Oscar, when was the last time ….what did you do that …Jaime most wanted to hit you with a frying pan?"

Oscar guffawed and shook his head. Odd to hear a little girl using the terminology of a borscht belt comedian. Unfortunately the answer readily came to mind. "Forgot to call to tell her I was going to be staying late at work."

"Kay." Katie said, and tore off toward Jaime.

When Jaime's answer matched her husband's, Katie's arms shot triumphantly into the air and she tore back to contestant number one. "You got one! Uncle Oscar, you got one! Next question. You got one right. You could get a prize."

"That's swell."

"Okay. If you had to compare your wife's chest to a kind of fruit, what would it be? Melons, grapefruit or strawberries?"

He was shocked into silence for a moment, and then he was angry. "Would I what?" he growled. "What kind of question is that?"

Katie froze and shuddered, as though his voice were a physical blow.

"You don't ask questions like that!" he added, having not quite registered the effect he was having.

Convinced that there was something peculiar in Katie's manner that needed attention, Jaime had begun a little guilty eavesdropping. She immediately doubled back and found them in a stand off, Oscar glaring at Katie and Katie pinned under his gaze.

"Hey." she said, hovering close, waiting for what she knew was coming. And she was right - at that moment a tear rolled down the little girl's cheek. Jaime drew her into a hug and simultaneously gave Oscar of warning which she meant as 'calm down', but he would likely read as a rebuke.

"Do you know what she just asked me?" he blurted.

Katie was meanwhile whimpering into Jaime's belly, hugging her tight. "I know." she said quietly.

Looking simultaneously crushed and frustrated, Oscar paced twice across the trail.

"It's okay honey. Uncle Oscar didn't mean to make you cry. Sometimes he has a big voice, that's all."

"I'm sorry Katie." Oscar said, placing his hand gently on the child's back. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Katie made a sulky squeak and recoiled from his touch.

Jaime rolled her eyes for his benefit and smiled at him. "She's fine." she mouthed. After indulging the tears with pats on the back and sympathetic murmurings, she said in a kindly but resolute tone, "Okay, honey. You're going to be okay. Why don't we get moving? You'll feel better in a minute."

Thank goodness they were close to the trail head. The last quarter mile they walked in silence, Katie still nursing her injury and Oscar looking stricken and fed up. Only the dogs were unfazed, sniffing and rooting and trotting ahead on the trail as they had all morning, their day unblemished by disagreement.

Katie climbed into the backseat and sat squeezed between the dogs, her arms crossed. Oscar glumly started the car and they rolled out of the parking lot. Placing her hand on his shoulder, Jaime smiled at him but all she got back was an unhappy glance. Just as she was about to suggest they pull into the roadside snack stand ahead, Oscar flicked the blinker on.

"Milkshakes." he grumbled.

Katie quietly chose strawberry while Jaime and Oscar opted to split a medium chocolate. They sat at one of the crooked picnic tables that dotted the lawn behind the stand, and spent more silent minutes trying to get the shakes started. Jaime wondered if it was just hard ice cream thrown into a cup. Oscar watched Katie as she carefully avoided his gaze, sucking so hard on her straw it made her cross-eyed. He quickly retrieved some spoons.

"Katie," Jaime started carefully, "Where did you get the idea for that game?"

Katie shrugged.

"Was it from _The Newlywed Game_?"

Katie began another shrug, which then gave over to the tiniest nod of acknowledgement.

"What's that?" Oscar asked, at a cautious whisper.

Jaime gave him a rough outline of the show – couples separated and then asked to guess what their spouse would say about any given topic. The questions usually encouraged criticism and hostility – the supposed comedy occurring when an outraged wife slapped her husband with the answer card or impugned his virility. Jaime chose the word 'virility' carefully, trusting that Katie wouldn't understand it, and as there was no change of expression on the girl's face, she judged she had been correct.

"You watch that?" Oscar asked, as though she had just confessed a murder.

"I've seen it once or twice." Jaime said defensively, "Naturally you're the only person in the country who hasn't heard of it. So you decided," she said, turning her attention back to the little girl, "that because we're newlyweds, we should play the game?"

Katie nodded, more boldly this time.

"You seemed awfully serious about it. You got pretty upset when we didn't answer that first question correctly."

Katie slumped and stared hard at her cup. With one fingernail she pushed tiny curls of wax from the surface. "Not as serious as Uncle Oscar got." she mumbled in a small, high voice.

Jaime placed her hand over Oscar's - a request for silence.

"Honey, that's because you were asking him a question that he doesn't expect to hear from a ten year old girl. Actually – I hope he doesn't hear that question from anybody. Do you understand why he might not have liked that?"

The little girl shrugged. She looked so very small.

"I don't think you understood when you asked it, but that's not a polite question. That's why Oscar got upset -because he's my pal and he doesn't talk that way about me. That's the problem with that show. People are rude to each other."

"Well that's why I wanted you to win! I thought you would win!" Katie protested. "Then they're always happy and they hug and they get a trip to Hawaii. And then they won't get a divorce."

Jaime couldn't help but laugh. "We just got married, Katie, I think it's a little early to be talking about divorce!"

"Sometimes the newlyweds say they're going to get a divorce." Katie returned.

Jaime was about to reply when Oscar squeezed her hand and said, "Katie, I've already won. I don't need to enter a contest. I can go to Hawaii anytime, but I could never buy the love of a person like Jaime. I don't have to tell you how terrific she is, do I? You like her a lot, don't you?"

"Yeah." Katie said shyly, blushing and smiling at Jaime.

"Well then you know how lucky I am."

A little embarrassed but more pleased, Jaime murmured, "You are too much." He routinely sent her into a state of giddy warmth with remarks like that. She hadn't thought he had it in him.

"It's true." he affirmed.

"But then how come people get divorces?" Katie blurted, breaking the brief romantic moment. "Is it because they're fooling around?"

Jaime frowned. "Fooling around? What's your definition of 'fooling around'?"

"It means getting a new girlfriend or boyfriend instead of an old wife. Brenda's Mom and Dad and getting divorced and Brenda says her dad has been fooling around."

"Oh." Oscar said, looking to Jaime to provide a fuller response.

"People have all kinds of problems for all kinds of reasons, Katie." she said. She ran her hand over the surface of the picnic table - it was patterned by roughly carved initials, several year's worth. SHe paused at "LR + TT". The letters gouged deeply and carefully into the wood. _How were they doing now?_ she wondered.

"Well I don't want you to have problems and I don't want Mom and Dad to either!"

Oscar and Jaime exchanged a look.

"Katie," Oscar said, "I talk to your Mom enough to know that if she was unhappy with your Dad I would have heard about it."

Katie looked at him doubtfully. "Sometimes they fight."

"Who doesn't?" Oscar shrugged.

"It's true. They can fight and still love each other honey." Jaime added. "You fight with them sometimes and you still love them don't you?"

"That's different. I have to love them because they're my parents." Katie stirred her shake thoughtfully with her spoon and made another attempt to drink it through the straw.

Oscar looked at his niece as though she were a complex logistical problem that needed to be solved. He drummed the table with his fingertips. "I think maybe we should talk to your Mom and Dad about your TV watching."

Katie's eyes widened in horror. "No!" she cried, gripping the picnic table. "No, please don't! Sam lets me watch it on his babysitting days even though he's not supposed to and if you tell he's going to get big trouble and then he'll be mad at me! I only saw it once! Honest!"

"Ah-ha!" Jaime said. "Forbidden fruit!"

"I never should have said anything!" Katie said, smacking herself on the forehead, then slumping to hold her head in her hands - utterly despondent. An instant later she was sitting up straight, gazing hard at the adults - an appeal written on her face. "Sam babysits me two days a week and sometimes we watch Star Trek reruns even though he's supposed to be doing homework and sometimes I am too but it's really fun. Once Star Trek wasn't on and we watched that Newlywed show and he hated it anyway. It was only once! Please don't tell."

"Okay. We won't." Oscar said almost immediately. Jaime looked at him in amazement - she had expected him to take the hard line. Instead, he had a wistful smile on his face.

Katie clasped her hands together in a gesture of gratitude.

"Well then," Jaime said, "if we don't want to get Sam in trouble, you'll have to start figuring this out for yourself. And I think you're big enough to do that. Now how close do you think Bugs Bunny is to real life?"

"Not even a little bit!" Katie chuckled knowingly.

"Well the Newlywed Game is just about as real as Bugs Bunny. You remember that, okay? Lots of TV is like that. Just silly stuff. And when you start taking a show seriously, ask yourself if maybe you're taking it too seriously."

Katie nodded slowly.

"It's important you figure this out, because you don't want people freaking out at you when you ask them to compare their wives' chests to watermelons or prunes or whatever, right?"

"No!" Katie replied emphatically. "It wasn't watermelons!" she said through a burst of giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. "Or prunes!" After a lengthy chortle, the wide, gap toothed grin slowly faded and was replaced by a puzzled frown. "How did you know that was what the question was? How did you hear that?"

"I tried not to, I promise." Jaime lied, "but your voice carries."

"Really?"

"Mm-hmm." Jaime murmured, draining the last dregs of the milkshake.

"Hey!" Oscar said indignantly. "We were supposed to share that!"

"Oops!" Jaime slapped her had over her mouth. "I wasn't paying attention."

"Now that's how people end up getting divorces." he said, frowning.

Jaime put her hand on the little girl's forearm, "He's kidding."

"I am kidding." Oscar agreed. "But it's still a rotten thing to do."

"You can have the rest of mine, Uncle Oscar." Katie said, holding it out to him.

"You don't have to do that, kiddo."

"It's okay. I can't finish it. Here."

Oscar took it from her, returning her smile. "Thanks. You must be the best niece ever."

Jaime smiled at both of them. It was a lovely truce.

The hour long drive home was very pleasant. Katie spoke with enthusiasm of her home room teacher, Mrs. Mills, and quizzed Jaime about her own classroom. Oscar spun two very exciting OSI stories, stating first that none of it was true. Jaime recognized some elements from her own adventures, but discreetly kept her mouth shut. No mention was made of the missing razor and the trail of clues. Somehow, it would have felt like cheating.


	5. Chapter 5

They opened the front door of the house to find Bruce and Judy sitting with another couple in the living room, all holding the dregs of what had been a martini. The greetings were ebullient, the introductions quick and informal. There was enough distraction that it took everyone a moment to note that Katie was glowering at the guests, her lips pinched and her face bright red. She turned and stomped off to her room.

"We had fun! I promise!" Oscar bleated.

"Honestly, I don't know what's gotten into that child!" Judy huffed, shaking her head in a kind of amazed fury.

"Just let it go." Bruce said quietly, catching his wife's hand as she rose to follow her daughter. "She's practically running the household with this reign of terror."

Judy nodded in assent, took a deep breath and turned to her friends.

"Aren't you glad your nest is empty?" she sighed.

The visitors were Dennis and Carol Markham - neighbors who lived across the alley. Judy explained that she had met Carol a year earlier when they were both out walking the dogs, and it wasn't long before they had all become fast friends.

The Markhams looked like a comedy team. He was an enormous man – taller than Oscar and built like a linebacker, with a thick neck, deep set blue eyes and a skiff of blonde hair on his head. Carol was short and round, with shiny red cheeks, sparkling green eyes and dyed chestnut hair. She gleamed with all the health and shine of a polished apple.

"We should get cleaned up a little." Jaime said, feeling soggy and bedraggled from their time in the rainforest.

"Are you kidding? You look terrific! Fresh and outdoorsy." Carol replied. "All you need is a martini. And as I'm the martini queen around here, I'm going to make you one!"

Refusal was not an option. Carol, obviously very comfortable in the Moore's kitchen, quickly and noisily shook up two drinks and poured them with a bartender's flourish. Though Jaime wasn't much of a martini drinker, the cool bite of the gin on her tongue was most welcome. Oscar, who loved martinis, murmured his appreciation and downed half of it in one gulp.

Whether it was the martinis or the good humor of the expansive Markhams, Jaime found herself feeling fully at ease for the first time since they'd arrived. It was quickly decided that the kids would be left at home to order pizza, while the adults would head across the alley for lasagna. There was that pleasant sense that they were in cahoots to help Judy and Bruce escape the tyranny of children.

"Before we go I had better go see what's up with Katherine the Great." Bruce said, rising reluctantly from his chair.

"Mind if I join you?" Jaime asked.

"Be my guest." he said, with a look that suggested he questioned her sanity.

They found Katie slouched on her bed, glumly flipping through an _Archie_ comic.

"Do you want to tell me what that was about?" Bruce asked.

"I don't like them." she grumbled.

"They're very good friends of ours. You've always liked them up till now, Peanut. What happened?"

Peanut shrugged. Shrugging seemed to be her staple response anytime she felt cornered.

"Have either of them done something to hurt your feelings or make you feel bad?"

Katie shook her head and shrunk and glowered, and then appeared to rethink. "Mrs. Markham yelled at me last week for coming into their yard. And I was just getting my frisbee."

"Well that's because you let the dog out. We've been through all that." Bruce admonished gently.

"I couldn't help it!" Katie protested, as though the injustice was too much to bear.

"You can't blame her for being upset. Who wants to spend the afternoon running all over the neighborhood calling for Buddy?"

Katie folded her arms. "I don't like her anyway. And you shouldn't either!" she added accusingly.

Bruce frowned and seemed taken aback. Jaime saw a sternness settle into his face. "Since you don't have a decent reason for your rudeness, you need to go out there and say hello properly."

"No!" Katie yelped, hunkering down so hard she was almost engulfed by the collection of stuffed animals that surrounded her.

Bruce sighed and looked to Jaime. She smiled sympathetically.

"The evening can go one of two ways." he said coolly. "One: You can go say hello nicely, and then you will be in your brother's care while the grownups go to the Markhams. He will order pizza and Brenda will come over and then he will likely play his new Queen record very loud and you can dance around and even stay up till nine o' clock because it's a weekend. Or..." he added, "two: You can refuse to go and do the polite thing, and then I will stay home with you, and I'll be mad because all the other grownups will be having fun across the alley. I will make rubbery fried eggs for dinner and watch the news and you will go to bed at 7:30." He folded his arms. "Now if you have a real reason to be angry with Mr. or Mrs. Markham I'd like to hear it. If you don't, I'd like you to do what I ask."

Katie's internal struggle was illustrated by uneasy wriggles and a fierce frown. "Okay." she finally grumbled.

Bruce guided his little daughter into the kitchen, his hand in the small of her back. Conversation halted when she made her appearance.

"Hi Mrs. Markham. Hi Mr. Markham It's nice to see you and I'm sorry I was grumpy earlier." she said, the words running together. If she was insincere, it wasn't apparent.

The adults fell all over themselves to reassure her, and Bruce smiled at her approvingly and nodded, indicating she was released. "Better go tell Sam the drill." he said.

Sam emerged from the basement, and was given money for pizza. He didn't seem to mind being stuck with his kid sister, which Jaime found both surprising and oddly touching.

The six adults, still holding their drinks, left the house and progressed in a line through the backyard, out the gate, across the alley, into the Markham's yard (careful not to let Buddy out), through the sliding doors into a spacious living room. The aroma of lasagna filled the house, and they all breathed appreciatively and remarked how delicious it smelled.

The most remarkable feature of the Markham's living room was the model ships – ten of them encased in glass, interspersed amongst the books on the shelves, taking pride of place on the mantelpiece, and even set in a stack of three against the window so that in daylight they might float on the grassy seas of the back yard.

Jaime knew what a thrill this would give Oscar, his boyhood love of models barely abated in adulthood. There was always some miniature of other in his office - a ship, a plane, a rocket. Ostensibly they were there as prototypes of new technology but she knew he loved them just because. True to her expectation his face lit up and with delight and astonishment when he identified the little destroyer at the bookcase as the very one he had served on early in his Naval career.

This in turn thrilled Dennis Markham so much he threw his hands in the air and wiggled his fingers, a gesture charmingly light and unselfconscious on so large and rugged man. He explained that he had made each model was wood, made from scratch using sets of plans provided by the local modeling club. Bruce had helped him immeasurably by allowing him to spend hours on his lathe making hundreds of tiny railings for the deck. When Dennis began to quiz Oscar as to the layout of the mess hall, Jaime decided it was time to seek out the company of the women.

Judy was perched on a stool at the kitchen counter, watching Carol tend to the creation of more drinks. The first martini was coursing pleasantly through Jaime's system and it helped her to not much care what Judy might be thinking about her.

"I think she's becoming like Bruce's mother." Judy groaned. "She's not like me, and she's certainly not like Bruce...but his mother! Now there was a woman who might break every bit of glassware in the house when she was in a mood. And sensitive - Lordy!"

"Redheads." Carol replied. "I've got a bunch in my family - trouble one and all."

"Katie?" Jaime asked.

Judy nodded, and for the first time she looked Jaime in the eye.

"Was she all right with you today?"

"She was great." Jaime replied. "A little…mercurial, but otherwise a terrific kid." She decided not to elaborate any further. Somehow Katie had drawn them into a tacit agreement of silence. She hitched herself on to the stool next to Judy's and no sooner had she put her glass down than Carol was refilling it. She was beginning to enjoy herself.

Once the hostess's lively eyes locked on her, the subject of Katie was left behind as Carol set out to discover everything she could about Jaime – her background, her tennis career, her teaching job, her interests. It wasn't an inquisition - just pure, honest curiosity, and Jaime was flattered by it. While she moved deftly around the kitchen preparing salad and lining up cutlery she eked out much of the abridged version of Jaime's life. Even Judy warmed up, propping her elbow on the counter, listening and smiling.

"Now how did you and Oscar get together? And how, for that matter, did he manage to stay single till now?" Carol asked in a conspiratorial tone, sidling up close, and looking across the room to the man in question. "Has he got something against shaving?" she added, as an afterthought.

"When are we going to eat?" Dennis roared in a pretend rage from one room away. "I'm going to chew off Bruce's leg any minute now!"

"Okay, okay!" Carol yelled with a giggle. "It's ready! Come and get it!"

Jaime was grateful for the interruption. There was something about the way Judy had leaned forward, squinting slightly, that made Jaime oddly nervous - as though she might say something to incriminate herself - though she couldn't imagine what that something might be.

The dining arrangement was informal. Dennis had lit a fire and turned out the lights so they sat in a warm semi-darkness, plates on their laps, the flickering light only just illuminating their dinners.

"Delicious!" Bruce murmured appreciatively, his mouth full of lasagna.

"I have a really good vegetarian recipe." Carol said, poking at her food thoughtfully, "but I had hamburger to use."

"Oh, this is perfect." Oscar replied, "My beloved wife is always trying to get me to eat vegetarian food, but men like meat. We're big and hairy and mean and we eat meat. Right Babe?" He turned to his wife, gazing at her with a look of tipsy mischief.

"I'm with you on the big and hairy." she replied. "Not so sure about the other two."

After dinner Dennis brought out bottles of scotch and port and red wine, and insisted everyone have something. Jaime thought it was the best dinner party she had been to in ages. Judy's wry humor was particularly keen, and Carol's endless curiosity sparked some interesting conversations. Jaime indulged her own curiosity and learned more about their hosts - they had married "far too young" at nineteen, that Dennis was a real estate lawyer, and Carol had dedicated herself to raising their three children, now all grown up and living on their own. Their eldest was due to produce a grandchild in February and they were ecstatic.

It was easy to see why they had become friends with Judy and Bruce. Carol's ebullience lifted Judy out of her natural reticence, and they shared a dark sense of humor. Bruce and Dennis had obviously bonded over carpentry and craftsmanship, and Dennis was even taking part in the canoe building efforts.

Around nine Jaime realized Oscar had not made his third security call of the day. Frantically she gestured to him across the room, miming a receiver held to her face. Oscar's eyes widened and he jumped to his feet and headed for the kitchen. She heard the murmuring - longer than it ought to have taken, and became nervous. Was a special forces team going to come crashing through the door any second now?

On his return, he paused, ducking close to her ear. "Thanks Babe. I told them I'm not calling in the rest of the weekend."

"Wha…?" she murmured, gazing in disbelief as he sat back down, watching his irritated expression give way to satisfaction. Who was this alien in her husband's body?

They tiptoed back into the house near midnight and found it quiet. Bruce made a quick tour and found everything in order. Katie was fast asleep in bed, Sam was reading in his room and reported that Brenda's mother had picked her up at ten. Carl was asleep on the couch, so all was as it should be. Judy yawned widely and whispered she just had to hit the hay. The other three nodded in woozy agreement.

The moment the latch of their bedroom door clicked behind them, Oscar got straight back to business. "How are we going to get into Sam's room?"

Jaime needed a moment to orient her brain to the question. She frowned and pondered, despite the fact that at this moment she couldn't have cared less.

"We've got to get this thing wrapped up. I need my razor back." he said. How could he appear to be so sober?

She was about to open her mouth to tell him it could wait till morning, when out of the blue she had a genuine brainwave. She could practically feel her head light up, and there in her mind was an image - perfectly clear - with a halo around it. A small sculpture on a shelf – crudely made of clay, probably by a child - of something that looked like a cat curled up in a chair.

"I'll be right back." she said, suddenly back into the investigative groove. Tiptoeing out to the living room so as not to disturb the snoring graduate student, she made for the bookshelf on the far side of the room. There was the little sculpture she had envisioned, and under it was the prize. Without stopping to examine it, she snatched up the square of paper, and sneaked back to the room.

"Hmm!" Oscar said, obviously impressed.

It was a drawing of a cat.

"A cat?" Jaime mused, "How many cats are there in this house? Could the clue be wrapped around the collar?"

Oscar shook his head. "We would have seen it. Four cats, I think. Wait a minute…" Oscar snapped his fingers, "could the clue be under that towel the cats sleep on in the living room?"

"Maybe…" Jaime said, wishing again they could just go to bed.

This time Oscar tiptoed out. The towel rested on the wide arm of the couch, cat in residence. Being a little drunk he made a minor miscalculation, and lifted the little animal up quickly and without warning. She meowed loudly in protest. Carl's eyes opened.

Oscar wondered how it must have looked to him – a near stranger poised over him in the dark, clutching an irritated cat.

"Goodnight Carl." he said soothingly.

Carl closed his eyes. Oscar lifted the towel and smiled in satisfaction when he saw the square of paper. He snatched it up and with cat in one hand and clue in the other he sneaked back to the room.

"I woke Carl." he said in a loud whisper as he entered the room. Placing Tippy carefully onto the bed he added, "Am I imagining it or does that guy smell like smoke?"

"I had the same thought." She held out her hand for the clue.

It was a picture of a bird.

"Oh...we're not going to have to dig something off the bottom of a birdcage, are we?" Jaime asked, wrinkling her nose.

"They don't have birds…I don't think." Oscar replied. "Could there be some relationship between the cat clue and the bird clue?"

"Dunno. If it's not a pet bird it's probably something outside and it's going to have to wait till morning." she said, as firmly as she could manage. "We can't go waking up the whole neighborhood."

"I want to get this thing solved."

"Honey. This is not OSI business. Take it easy. We're half cut and it's late and we're on holiday." Still she could see the gears whirring in his head. Hooking her fingers through his belt loops, she added, "Let's go to bed. We like bed, remember?" She watched this remark pierce through the clouds of his preoccupation, and then he looked at her as though he had just experienced a revelation.

"That's right – we do like bed, don't we?" Placing his hands firmly around her waist, he leaned down to nuzzle her neck, stubble scratching her skin in a not unpleasant way.

"How did you get along with Judy tonight?" he murmured, kissing her just under her jaw line.

"Judy who?" she sighed, pressing herself into his warm and welcoming body.


	6. Chapter 6

The alarm on Oscar's watch woke them at six the next morning. Jaime groaned at the sound of it, jammed a pillow over her head and resolved to resist. Staying in bed was so much nicer than dressing and going out into the wintry chill - it was dark to boot - and she wasn't feeling exactly perky. However there would be no negotiating with Oscar. This was one of his flaws - he could ignore physical frailties - the need for food and sleep, the desire to lie in bed to sleep off four martinis - like no one else she knew.

In ten minutes they were dressed and standing in the backyard, Oscar wielding a flashlight he had dug out of a kitchen drawer. The air was wet and cold - the kind of cold that burrowed through clothing and headed straight for the bones.

"Maybe she tied it around the leg of a migrating bird right now on its way to Mexico." Jaime whispered through a yawn.

"Hmm." Oscar grunted. This was his one concession to his martini induced frailty - he became monosyllabic.

It seemed obvious that the yard was too large to be properly searched by two people with one flashlight in the dark. They stood on the deck for some moments, Oscar shining the light randomly over grass and trees and fence.

"Is there a birdbath?" Jaime inquired.

"No... but I think I saw…." he aimed the beam back toward the house, illuminating a bird feeder hanging from the eaves.

"Ah ha!" Jaime exclaimed. Conveniently, a patio chair stood next to the feeder, allowing her to retrieve it easily. Inside, on top of a pile of seeds, was a curled up piece of paper.

It was a picture of a tree. There were probably twenty trees in the yard, and they set about examining them together, walking around each one, shining the flashlight up and down the length of the trunk, concentrating at the height most easily accessible to a four feet tall person.

"I sure hope nobody looks out the window right now." she said.

Two trees away, she spied a square shape glowing against the bark. "Got it!" she whispered, jogging over and snatching it from where it was pinned. "A house?" she murmured disappointedly, once Oscar had illuminated the image. "That's a pretty general clue. And here I thought we were getting somewhere."

"Treehouse?" Oscar suggested, pointing the flashlight up to a large dark form in the branches of the trees at the back of the yard.

"Yeah…" Jaime agreed, heading straight to it.

In the dark she could just make out the rope ladder hanging from a hole in the floor of the structure. She headed up, Oscar lighting the way for her.

Squeezing with some difficulty through the small hole, she was engulfed in darkness until her eyes adjusted. Then triumphantly she whispered, "Paydirt, Bup!"

Oscar halted at the entrance rather than get himself stuck in the hole. Only his head poked up into the little room.

"I could try coming in the window…" he offered, his voice gravelly.

"No!" Jaime barked. "Not in the dark. We don't need any trips to the emergency room today."

He forced his arm and shoulder through the hole and shone the flashlight through the small room. They had indeed found Command Central of Katie's operation. Oscar's razor was laid out neatly in the center of the floor. Near the window at the back of the fort was a pair of binoculars and a clipboard, containing notes of some kind.

Jaime brought it to Oscar and lay on the floor beside him so they could examine it together. On a sheet of foolscap was a neat list of dates and times – seven of them altogether.

"If the position of the binoculars indicate which window she's been looking through…" Oscar mused, "then it's possible she's been watching…"

"…the Markhams." Jaime finished.

By six forty-five they were back into bed. Chilled and sluggish, neither saw the point in sitting in a quiet house for the next hour or more, waiting for everyone else to rise - bed was much more appealing. Jaime slept well in Oscar's arms – she usually conked out for a full six to eight hours a night, and best of all were those morning they could lie in together, dozing and snuggling. In her darkest moments of the previous couple of years – before Oscar - she had been down to two or three hours a night. Rudy told her it was the boost given to her metabolism by bionics. Now she knew it had been a combination of anxiety and exhaustion.

Lying face to face, they considered the situation.

"So why spy on the Markhams?" Jaime whispered. From this perspective Oscar was all nose and sincere brown eyes.

"And why get us involved?" he added. "Is she testing us? Or does she think they're spies, or both?"

"I think there's more to it…" Jaime mused, absently caressing his ear. After some moments she added, "Do you think…maybe this is going to sound crazy…but is it possible, if we take her worries about divorce…she must be worried about her parents divorcing….and then if you add her sudden anger at the Markhams, and the spying from the treehouse…"

"What?" He was not catching on.

"The fact that she knows Brenda's father is seeing another woman…"

"...that she thinks one of her parents is having an affair with one of the Markhams?" he gasped incredulously.

"Yeah…" Jaime said, "As crazy as it sounds?"

"Pretty crazy all right. Ridiculous in fact." Suddenly he was a tiny bit doubtful. "Do you think there's marital trouble there?"

"I don't think so...they look pretty solid to me...but then...it doesn't have to be true." she said. "She is only nine."

"Right….so if that is what she thinks…is it Judy having an affair with Dennis, or is it Bruce having an affair with Carol? Both scenarios are not something I care to picture." An small bemused smile crossed his face.

"I'm going to guess that...Katie thinks her father is having an affair with Carol. She seems angry at him... and the other night she said her mother didn't understand anything..." Jaime was sorting her thoughts as they left her lips, "and her hostility seemed more directed at Carol than at Dennis."

"Okay...so does that mean Bruce is going over to the Markhams alone, or does it mean that Carol comes over here?"

"Maybe it's going to be your job to find out. Mano a mano."

"How am I going to do that?"

"You're a smart man." Jaime smiled sleepily. "You'll figure something out." Then she closed her eyes.

"But…" Oscar added, and then he stopped. He was going to say "what if Bruce _is_ having an affair?", but Jaime looked so serene, and even as he contemplated the problem her breath had become the rhythmic and steady. She was very much asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm just going to run to the stores." Judy announced at ten-thirty am. "I'll be back in no time."

Finally the entire household was awake and fed and lingering around the kitchen table – except for Katie. When she first saw Oscar's freshly shaved face her eyes bugged out and she quietly slinked from the room.

"Want some company?" Jaime smiled winningly. "I'll help."

Judy opened her mouth as if to demur and then stopped. "Sure. That would be nice."

From the passenger seat of the ancient and enormous family station wagon, Jaime watched Judy turn to back out of the driveway. Her mouth was set and her eyes intent on the job. Likely she too was still feeling the residual effects of the previous evening. She was pale and all the lines in her face seemed to have deepened overnight.

"So where are we headed?"

"To the butcher's. I ordered a roast for tonight."

"Oh shoot - Oscar and I wanted to take everyone out – our treat." In fact she hadn't discussed this idea with Oscar at all but was confident that would be his preferred course of action.

"Well that's very nice, but it's all set." Judy shifted into drive and set off.

Her tone was flat, matter-of-fact – too flat and matter-of-fact, nor did she seem to be intending to converse further. That was all Jaime needed – the right sort of irritant – and she found her voice.

"Judy," she said haltingly, "I wanted to talk with you because….well, I just keep getting the feeling you don't like me – you can correct me if I'm wrong…but…."

"No!" Judy interrupted, looking shocked. "No, Jaime, I like you just fine." She drew to a halt at the intersection and looked both ways twice before proceeding. She was a cautious driver. "I'm sorry you feel that way - I've been so preoccupied this weekend."

Her reply was not unexpected but it made Jaime feel foolish, as though she had made the whole thing up – and she was quite sure she _hadn't_ made it up. Uncertain what to do next, she looked out the window. More rain was imminent, full dark clouds suspended over the city, moisture heavy in the air. If Judy was anything like her brother, the thing to do was give her time to digest, and let her bring it up.

They drove in silence for some minutes before pulling up at a storefront advertising "Gordon's Fine Meats".

"It looks closed." she said anxiously, peering through the car window. "It can't be..." She hurried out of the car, joined at the door by Jaime. It was locked tight. Befuddled, she checked her watch.

"What...?"

"It says here they're closed on Sunday." Jaime pointed to the sign in the window.

"It's Sunday?" Judy asked, aghast. "I thought it was Saturday!"

"Nope."

"My God - my brain!" Judy said, clasping the sides of her head in frustration. "Menopause!"

"Well then," Jaime said, "Oscar and I will take everyone out to dinner. You have to accept now."

Throwing up her hands in resignation, Judy smiled ruefully. "I guess it's either that or beans on toast - thank you." She seemed now to be making an effort. Grumbling companionably about the ravages of age she headed back to the car.

"You're probably just overworked." Jaime offered.

Judy didn't start the engine immediately. She leaned over the steering wheel, her ear tuned to some internal monologue, her hand poised over the ignition as though she had been flash frozen.

"I guess you came along this morning to talk to me..." she said slowly, "and I guess that also means I owe you the courtesy of a real answer."

Jaime's heart fluttered anxiously.

Turning to face her, Judy said, "I'm sorry - I don't know you and it's not fair...but to me... you look very much like a middle aged man's error in judgment."

Clasping her hands together, absorbing the words, holding her anger, Jaime gazed at her sister-in-law. "I can't help the way I look. I can't help my age, and I can't help being blonde." she said carefully. "Maybe you could adjust your thinking to see me as your brother's loving wife."

"I have to say…it doesn't help that he looks happy… " She spoke slowly, choosing her words one by one, "and you just look…tense."

"That has nothing to do with Oscar!" Jaime protested. "You're the one who's making me tense!"

Surprise flickered through Judy's eyes. She hadn't considered that possibility. "Look - " she said, shifting in her seat, the vinyl creaking in the cold, "You have to understand, with Oscar I've always been the priest in the confessional – if that's an appropriate analogy for a couple of demi-Jews. He tells me his secrets, and as you know, he has a lot of secrets. Until you came along, I've been the one person he talked to and I don't tell a soul - not even Bruce."

"Do you miss that?" Jaime asked, searching for the relevance of Judy's comment. "Do you...feel like you're losing him?"

Affront crossed over Judy's face. "No." she said dismissively, folding her arms and looked out the window. Then she added with some reluctance, "Maybe. Maybe I do. Silly."

Jaime couldn't help but smile - this too reminded her of Oscar - he never resisted the truth about himself for long, even if it was uncomfortable.

"No...that's not silly. I think it's kind of normal."

"I mean...in a way I'm relieved. I've got enough on my plate right under my own roof - and I'm glad - I really am...that he has you to talk to." Judy waved her hands rapidly as though trying to clear smoke from the air. "But that's not what I've been trying to say. What I'm trying to say is...I know a lot about you - probably more than I should. Oscar has never told me state secrets, per se, but he does talk about how his work in terms of how it affects him."

Jaime bit her lip, feeling unpleasantly exposed. She didn't mind people talking about her - she just didn't necessarily want to know about it. Suddenly she wished Judy would start the car, so they could have the benefit of heat.

"Through Oscar I've followed your life...as it happened," Judy continued, "an accident, surgeries, memory loss, a forgotten fiancé…"

Jaime nodded, wondering uneasily where this conversation might be going.

"When he told me he was in love with you - must have been four years ago or so - I knew right away he was in trouble."

"Why trouble?"

"Well...it seemed like every couple of weeks he'd call and tell me the latest sad tale of how new guy who had turned your head – and honestly, and I'm sorry about this ... I got mad at you. I know it's not your fault but...he's my brother."

"Well… I guess I can't blame you for that." Jaime replied. In a way it was a relief to know that Judy's reticence about her had a basis in something other than her appearance. "There is a story there."

"I'm sure. And don't get me wrong – he gushed about you, went on and on about how wonderful you were, but I was thinking 'What's so wonderful? She's breaking your heart!'"

Jaime regarded her companion thoughtfully. They were getting somewhere - even if it wasn't entirely pleasant to hear. "Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"

"Sure." Judy smiled in her sober way and started the car.

xxxxx

Oscar walked out to Bruce's backyard workshop with great reluctance. How was he going to finesse this situation? He knocked and pushed through the door, the smell of freshly cut wood and varnish meeting him as he entered.

Bruce was carefully buffing the top of an elegant low teak coffee table with a wad of steel wool. He greeted Oscar warmly without stopping. "I just have to get this thing done today." he added.

"No problem, Bruce. Price of success I guess."

Oscar diverted himself with small talk while he screwed up the courage to address his brother-in-law about the matter of his alleged extra-marital affairs. It quickly proved to be entirely unnecessary.

"Oh – hey!" Bruce said, examining the table edge nearest to him, "Do you think you and Jaime could get back this way for Judy's birthday? I've been cooking up a little surprise party with Carol - you know, the one you met last night - Dennis's birthday is the same day as Jude's, and we figure both of them deserve a little getaway so we've booked a lodge down the coast. It would be great if you could come."

"A surprise party!" Oscar repeated, nodding, a smile creeping onto his face.

"Yeah," Bruce said. "It's not a significant birthday or anything – you know, fifty-two - but she could really use a break. Her department is a mess and they want her to be head again and we're trying to get my Dad into a home and the kids are... challenging and she's… you know….going through that…change of life thing."

Oscar's eyes widened. That explained a thing or two - like why last night she had suddenly got up and crossed the room fanning her face looking flushed. "Ohhhh." he said, nodding slowly, embarrassed. "I should have figured that out. I thought she seemed...not quite herself. Anyway, yes,… I'll see what we can do. We'd love to come of course, we'll just have to check our schedules." he shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling satisfied and very relieved. "So you've been planning this with Carol?"

"Yup. On the sly!" he added, without a hint of guilt. "Judy thinks I can't plan anything, so this ought to blow her right out of the water!" He gave a gratified chuckle, as pleased as though he had pulled off a fiendishly clever successful bank heist.

"Carol will get all the credit."

"You're right!" Bruce replied, his face dropping. "Maybe I can get her to talk me up a bit."

"Judy will love it - and we'll try hard to come." Noting that Bruce's work had come to a standstill, Oscar added, "Anyway, I'll leave you to it."

"Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

"Oh - yes!" Oscar replied. There was no need to tell him about Katie now was there? Thinking quickly, he said, "I wanted to commission you to make one of these for us - a coffee table. We need a coffee table. But we can talk about it later because Jaime will want to be in on it."

"Oh, sure. I'd be delighted."

Oscar was halfway out the door before he had fully reconsidered. He hesitated and stepped back in again. "Oh, Bruce...uh... you need to have a word with Katie."

"Bout what?"

"Well I think...I don' t know how to tell you this...but Katie has seen you going over to the Markhams by yourself and she's drawn some...unsavory conclusions."

Bruce frowned, uncomprehending. "Like what?"

"Like...um..." Oscar felt like a prudish old lady all of a sudden, unable to find the appropriately discreet words. "That you're getting a little extra on the side...uh..."

Still Bruce seemed not to understand.

"That you're having an...uh..."

Suddenly Bruce's expression changed. "Sex?" he blurted, "with Carol? Katie thinks I'm getting it on with Carol?" He burst out laughing and slapped the coffee table twice with his open hand. "Now _that_ is a good one!"


	8. Chapter 8

Judy suggested her favorite coffee shop near the university. The conversation shifted to lighter topics as they drove there, Jaime remarking on the loveliness of the city. The memories she had from two vacations with her parents were reconfirmed - big bridges, a compact downtown, brick and wood buildings, lots of green - even in winter, steely grey skies and waters, the smell of the ocean. Judy said that she loved it and wouldn't live anywhere else. It was a young person's city – open-minded and optimistic. "Not like DC." she added.

"DC has its charms." Jaime replied, realizing as she said it that she meant it.

The coffee shop was dark and cavernous, grimy armchairs and couches occupied by sleepy students surrounded by text books and notes. Once they were seated, cups in hand, Jaime picked up where they left off, leaning forward in her chair and speaking with a quiet intensity.

"You've got to understand - the three years after my accident...that period you were hearing about in phone calls...was insane. Tennis had been the center of my life for years, and suddenly it was over - just like that. I had two new jobs, the first involving risking my life on a regular basis in service to my country - not something I'd ever planned on taking on - and then teaching seventh grade... which… also involved risking my life on a regular basis."

Judy, watching her with intent brown eyes, smiled subtly.

"It was hard. I had to completely relearn who I was - and I didn't even have the whole picture because I was still missing bits of my memory. And Oscar...to tell you the truth, he was a pain in the butt!"

Judy drew her chin in, surprised.

"That man worked me like a rented mule. Every time I put my feet up for five minutes, there he was." She dropped her voice to a baritone to imitate him. "'Jaime, I need you to go to Timbuktu - tonight!' - for crying out loud!"

Judy was smiling more broadly now, and her eyes were clear and curious.

"And I didn't know he loved me. I thought he was 'fond' of me. It's not like he was sending me roses every week. Don't get me wrong - I loved his company and we always had a great time together when we were off the clock, but those times were few and far between. Anyway, it all got to be too much and I finally just snapped... jumped off that carnival ride..." Jaime paused for a much needed breath, "and then...when the world stopped spinning, and I could tell up from down... there he was, right in front of me, where he'd always been - ol' brown eyes."

"Hmm." Judy nodded thoughtfully.

"It hit me like it was the most obvious thing in the world." Jaime shrugged and smiled. "I've _always_ loved him - but sometimes when someone is that loyal, that patient, that quiet..._and_ has been a big pain the butt too - you take them for granted. The minute I stopped taking him for granted - well, I was a goner." She sipped her coffee and wondered if she was explaining too much. She didn't owe anyone an explanation. "But I had to work on him. Kinda took him by surprise I think. He had a thousand reasons we couldn't be together."

"It must have taken you a full fifteen minutes." Judy said, deadpan.

"I think it was half an hour." Jaime returned. Though she joked, she was not feeling particularly humorous. "We had to jump through a lot of hoops to get here you know, getting everything straight at the OSI, reassuring the Secretary of State, breaking it to my ex - well, two exes...I didn't expect you to have a problem too. Acceptance...maybe even a little support, or enthusiasm...that would be nice!"

Judy nodded again and had the decency to look rueful.

"I'm no gold digger, if that's what is worrying you." It was a bald statement - almost an accusation, and by the look on her companion's face, Jaime could tell that she had indeed arrived at the core of her concern. Judy practically recoiled - embarrassed to hear the words spoken out loud.

"I'm proud of him and everything, but I don't care that he's a Washington big shot. In fact many days I could really live without the cocktail parties and state dinners. It's _Oscar_ that interests me. He runs deep - much deeper than I ever knew," she shrugged as though she were stuck with it - that there was nothing that could be done, "and I love him."

Judy pressed her lips together and breathed heavily through her nose. Looking Jaime straight in the eye she said, "I'm sorry, I am - I've done you an injustice...and I'm glad you had the guts to bring it up with me. It's obviously my problem and not yours. I guess... I always feel like I need to defend him, whether he needs it or not - to the point of making myself ridiculous. I can't seem to help it."

"Well I appreciate the sentiment." Jaime replied, not sounding entirely appreciative. "It is nice for me to know he has had someone in his corner all these years - but I swear to you he doesn't need defending from me."

"It's just me, by the way. Bruce thinks you're the bee's knees."

"That's nice." Jaime smiled, and felt extra fond of Bruce. "Is this a big sister thing? Feeling protective towards one of the most powerful men in the country?"

Judy looked to the ceiling. "Oh sure. Bruce will tell you it's all because of Sam...and I guess he's right."

"Sam?"

"Sam my brother - not my son." She plucked a napkin from the dispenser and wiped a wet coffee ring from the table, and shoved it to one side. "When we lost him, Oscar went from being a happy boy to a very sad boy. He and I got lost in the shuffle - all our parents could think about was finding Sam, saving his reputation, battling with the Navy – and because we never found him, it never ended. I figured it was up to me to look after Oscar, and... it seems to be a hard habit to break."

"Who looked after you?"

"I was fourteen, and Iooked after myself all right - but Oscar did too, in his way. We got to be a real team, the two of us." She smiled, her eyes looking into the past. "We used to make godawful meals when we were on our own. Once, he made something so foul, using molasses and cornstarch and canned peas, that we threw the pot away rather than have to clean it."

Jaime laughed. "He never told me that." She propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. "Can I ask you an odd question...since we're getting close to the bone this morning...did you ever... resent Sam?"

"Oh sure." Judy said without hesitation. "I don't know which was worse - the living version of the missing version. I was always in his shadow. No matter how well I did in school, he was always better. No matter how good I was at home, Sam was better. Not that we were held to with the same set of standards - me being a girl. Looking back on him, I do think he was an exceptional young man - maybe a touch self righteous... but I'm sure time would have knocked him down a peg...if he hadn't been knocked out entirely." She shook her head, reconsidering that ancient sadness. "He was so good to Oscar. Oscar worshipped him."

"Still does." Jaime added.

"Yeah." Judy agreed. "Sam is petrified in his perfection - he'll always be nineteen - a bright future in front of him. It's hard to be mere flesh and blood next to that. That's always been the hardest - especially for Oscar. I swear to God my father figured that if Oscar could make it to the directorship of the OSI then Sam most certainly would have been President."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah - the ghost of Sam hung over both of us. He was just a kid, Jaime - not that much different than my own Sam. I've had to tell myself that ten thousand times over the years. Just a boy. Not a mythology. If he were alive now, you might pass him on the street and not even take a second look at him."

"It's a sad story." Jaime said, contemplating the history that had acted on Oscar all these years.

"It's a long time ago." Judy replied. Then she frowned, opened her mouth to speak, went quiet for a moment, and added, "I don't want you to think our parents were bad – they were good people, and they did the best they could under very difficult circumstances."

"I know. They had to be good people. They raised two very fine children."

"Ah, go on." Judy flapped her wrist. She sighed. "You know what Bruce would say...he would tell me that I'm giving you the three-legged cat treatment."

"What?" Jaime laughed incredulously.

"When we met, I had a three legged cat - one I'd found in a back alley dumpster. He always tells me I'm a sucker for the strays, and mistrustful of the people I peg as the winners in life. I'm surprised he didn't tell you that on the way home from the airport. He loves bringing it up - every available opportunity."

"He didn't say a thing." Jaime lied. "So, you pegged me as a winner?"

"Naturally!"

"You know," Jaime said, smiling secretively, "I might be more of a three legged cat than you think I am... and maybe one day I'll tell you all about it."

Judy nodded. She seemed relieved, and was definitely more relaxed. "I'm all ears. More coffee?"

"Sure." Jaime said.

When Judy returned with the refills she wore a new look of preoccupation. "Does it worry you..." she said, hesitatingly, " being a sixty year old woman with an eighty year old husband? I'm heading in the direction of sixty right now Jaime, and it's closer than you think."

"Well...it's not like I haven't thought about it, but we've got a lot of mileage to make before then. You know, I might not make it to sixty. That accident really messed me up. And then if I do make it to sixty, I don't know what kind of shape I'll be in. That's something he has to live with. We'll take what we can get."

Judy nodded soberly. "Gratitude, huh?"

"Exactly."

"What happened to you in that accident anyway? You don't look at all like someone who has been in a bad accident." Judy squinted. "You probably can't tell me."

Jaime shrugged and smiled, her mouth clamped shut.

"I thought not." She leaned forward, more serious than ever. "You do know what a knucklehead he can be, right?"

"A knucklehead?" Jaime gasped, in outsized astonishment. "Now why would you say a thing like that?"

"You do know, don't you." Judy confirmed, leaning back, a large, satisfied smile on her face. "I guess you are going to be all right."

Jaime returned what must have been almost exactly the same smile - they were finally on the same side. Maybe this relationship was going to work out after all.


	9. Chapter 9

His conversation with Bruce satisfactorily concluded and Judy and Jaime not yet back, Oscar found himself loose ends - until he observed Katie ascending the ladder to the tree house. He hesitated - should he wait for Jaime? Jaime knew how to talk to kids. On the other hand, he had broached all manner of serious subjects to all manner of people for years. He had bellowed, cajoled, bullied, pleaded - surely he could handle a child. He thought of Jaime's approach - she was always respectful with kids and always tried to put herself in their position. He could do that, and possibly impress his wife at the same time - now _there_ was motivation. He waited to see if Katie pulled the ladder up behind her, and when she didn't, he made his move. Fred the dog, who had been lying asleep at the door of Bruce's woodshop, followed him to the base of the tree and watched him make the climb.

"Katie, it's Uncle Oscar. I'm coming up." This time he bypassed the entrance way and clambered carefully along one of the main, sturdy branches to the side window, which he stepped through with relative ease. Katie was sitting cross legged, holding a slim novel - the kind specifically made for nine year olds - and not surprisingly she was looking abashed.

He sat opposite her, and unsure how to start, murmured a few complementary words about the tree house and how it must be nice in the summer time. At this time of year, it was too chilly to be truly pleasant. Fred could be heard whining below.

"I guess we solved your mystery." he said finally.

"Guess so." Katie replied, staring hard at her fingers, which she seemed to be trying to tie into knots. "If ...you hadn't have found it," she added, "I would have given it back to you."

"Well, Jaime and I being professionals," he said with exaggerated smugness, "I was confident I'd get it back. And I sure was happy to be able to shave again." He smiled at Katie, and she smiled back, relief washing over her face.

"But that was only part of the puzzle, wasn't it?"

She nodded and looked furtively at the binoculars still hanging by the window.

Oscar hesitated again...discussing infidelity with a nine year old girl was not something he'd ever done before. From below, Fred the dog expressed his dissatisfaction at being left out, letting out a high-pitched shrieking bark.

"I'm going to try a theory out on you, and you can tell me if I'm in the ballpark, okay?"

"Okay." Katie replied, unable to look him in the eye.

"The clipboard, the times logged...you were watching your Dad go over to the Markhams - by himself."

Katie's expression gave her away. She nodded slowly, her eyes now fixed to Oscar's.

"And maybe you could see Carol over there - by herself...and you...you figured that they were...uh..."

"Fooling around!" Katie finished the sentence in an intense whisper.

"So we got that right?"

Katie nodded fiercely.

"Did you ever _see_ them…well…fooling around?"

"No." She shook her head just as fiercely.

"Did you know that your Mom and Dennis share a birthday?"

"Does that mean _they're_ fooling around?" she asked, aghast.

Fred barked again.

"No...no..." This conversation could go awry so easily. "it means that Carol and your Dad are planning a surprise birthday for them. That's why he's been going over there."

"Oh." Katie frowned. Oscar could practically see her thought processes in her face as she tried to fit this new information into her paradigm - _somebody_ had to be fooling around.

"Nobody is fooling around, Katie. Your Dad and Carol are thinking up a surprise for your Mom and Dennis because they want to do something nice for them."

Fred yelped and whined and barked again. "He always does this!" Katie said disgustedly. Shimmying briskly to the entrance, she poked her head down the hole and bellowed, "SHUT UP FRED! YOU STUPID OLD HOUND DOG!"

Fred whimpered. Oscar marveled at the power of those little lungs.

She sat upright again and looked at her uncle for a long time, blinking her light lashed eyes. "So nobody is going to get a divorce?"

"No." he said. It was a risky affirmation to make - you never knew the crazy things people might get up to, but he was fairly certain that in this scenario, he was right. "I have to tell you, kiddo, you're a little young to be thinking about this stuff. Your Mom and Dad love each other and that's all you need to know for now. You'll start understanding these things out as you go along in life, but right now you're trying to figure it out without enough information. I think you worry too much - just like your Mom and me."

Katie smiled hesitantly. "That's what Mom says too. She says I inherited it from Grandpa." Once again she began to twine her fingers tightly around each other, elbows sticking out, tips of her fingers white. Oscar told himself to refrain from lecturing to hammer the point home - the urge was overwhelming.

"They really do love each other?" she asked finally.

Tiring of his cross legged position, Oscar opted to stretch out, lying on his side, propping himself on his elbow. "I remember when your Mom and Dad first met. I thought maybe your Mom was never going to get married. She worked so hard getting her PhD that she didn't seem to have time for anything else." He would not have said this if Jaime were present, because he knew exactly the sort of smart comment she'd make - something about a pot calling a kettle black. "She wasn't very happy - at least I don't think she was. Then she met your Dad - and if you want to know the truth - I couldn't see how it was going to work. She was a stick in the mud, and as far as I could tell, he was going nowhere. I liked him - he was smart and fun and easy to be around, as I'm sure you know - but he didn't know what to do with himself. They were so different, but somehow - they clicked. He helped her loosen up, and she gave him the confidence he was missing - they did that for each other. People can do that Katie - they can help each other. In fact, I've always been a little jealous of what they have - until I found Jaime, that is."

Katie had stopped winding her fingers together and was listening closely.

"And then they had your brother," Oscar added, seeing he had an appreciative audience, "and they were crazy about him."

Katie wrinkled her nose.

"Then when _you_ came along…"

"Sam says I was an accident."

Oscar pondered his answer. "I believe you were a surprise. The happiest surprise your parents ever got." he added quickly.

"Once Sam told me they didn't even want me - that they almost sent me to some other family, and that he wished they did."

"Well, that's an older sibling for you." Oscar chuckled. "I know all about that. Your own mother used to tell me I was adopted. In fact, she used to tell me that I was rescued from the old couple who lived down at the bottom of our street. I was scared of them. The old man was quite crippled and he hated kids, and the wife had a _big_ goiter – do you know what a goiter is?"

Katie shook her head.

"It's a lump you get on your throat if you have an iodine deficiency. Anyway, my sister - your mother - used to grab my Adam's apple and tell me it was going to be just like Mrs. Humphries' one day, because I was her real son."

"That's not very nice." Katie said indignantly.

""No it's not. But it just seems funny now. Anyway, back to you. When you were born, your Dad called me, and it was late – about two in the morning. He was so happy he was laughing and crying at the same time and it took him five minutes to pull himself together to tell me that you were a healthy baby girl. And then he told me you had a tuft of bright red hair on the top of your head and that you were - bar none - the most beautiful baby he had ever seen."

"Really?"

"Yup." Having almost lost the subject entirely, Oscar decided it was time to wind round to the original point. "You have to understand, Katie, sometimes for grownups daily life is hard and boring and annoying, but that doesn't change how much people love each other. Being annoyed with someone is different than not loving them. I can imagine your parents being annoyed with each other, but I believe they love each other. And they love being a family. That means they want to stick together - all four of you." He looked her hard in the eyes. Had he made an impression? "Besides, I have to tell you, I can't really picture your Dad and Carol – uh …Mrs. Markham…" He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. "What do you think of that?"

"I like it." Katie said.

"Does that help?" Oscar asked.

"Uh huh." she replied. "I think so." Judging by her posture and her expression, Oscar figured he had made a difference. She looked as though a big weight had fallen from her and she was still adjusting to her own lightness.

When they descended the rope ladder together some minutes later, Oscar felt a strange elation. He _was_ able to handle a nine year old girl - and it was a refreshing change from handling adults. So many of the adults he encountered every day were duplicitous, secretive, difficult. Katie was a fresh and transparent little soul, and he enjoyed the protectiveness he felt toward her.

"Peanut!" Bruce called from his workshop as they crossed the yard. "Could I get your help in here for a moment please?" Bruce and Oscar exchanged significant looks as Katie trotted to her father. Oscar kept walking to the house.

At Katie's age, he was two years away from the moment when his childhood tipped upside down and never righted itself again. He fervently hoped that Katie would experience no such upset in her little life.

Entering the warmth of the house he was struck by the particular smell of it - a subtle, indescribable smell - the smell of home. This notion in the front of his mind he entered the living room and looked around and felt a rush of love for all of it - the African masks, the furniture - even the heaps of paper. He and Judy were the keepers of each other's pasts, and knowing she was out there just living her life somehow made him more real.

It occurred to him then his childhood memories of Judy brought with them a strong feeling of comfort - possibly even happiness, and this was a surprising thought. Mostly he thought of those years as oppressive - sadness and anger thick in the air.

That wonderful day she brought home the illustrated book on the archeology of Egypt - they spent hours together poring over it, Oscar thrilled by the beautiful color illustrations. That night they decided they were going to be Egyptologists together (she would be the professor and he would be her assistant) - and even now he could feel the conflict he had felt then, pushing at his ribcage - the pleasure of escape shoved against his sense of responsibility. At eleven, he had already decided he was going to have to be just like Sam - to bring some light into the sad faces of his parents, to solve the mystery of his disappearance - but the magic of Egyptology pulled at him.

Judy was there for all the 'normal' moments - she made him dance with her, she helped him with his homework, they tried their first sip of alcohol together - vodka pilfered from the highest cabinet in the dining room. He teased her about boyfriends and her first appearance wearing lipstick. They fought like tigers and made up quickly - they needed each other.

Oscar stopped dead in the middle of the kitchen. Perhaps he owed her a bigger debt of gratitude than he had ever contemplated before.

The house was unusually quiet without the family there - the only sound was the ticking of his mother's wall clock - the old sound of home. He had spent so much time in silence - as the soul living creature in his own empty house. He had told himself it was his refuge, but that was a lie of course. Now, even if Jaime was napping or reading in another room, he could feel her presence - her warmth, her heartbeat – and what a beautiful thing that was. Now she was home to him.

More than once Jaime had said she wished she had a sibling - someone with whom she shared memories, someone who carried hints of her beloved parents in their eyes, or in the way they laughed. She knew she was lucky to have the Elgins and Steve - but it wasn't quite the same. He had felt sad for her – despite the fact his own sister could irritate him like no one else on earth.

As he poured himself yet another cup of coffee, Sam and Brenda sidled into the room. "Hey Uncle Oscar," Sam said, "um...we were wondering if maybe you and Jaime would play some tennis with us down at the community center. Brenda is pretty good and I've been practicing and we thought maybe the pro could give us some pointers?"

"Well I'm sure Jaime would be delighted." Oscar replied, surprised and pleased by the suggestion - in truth he was pleased just to be addressed by his laconic nephew. "Oh - shoot -" he added, looking at his Oxford clad feet. The shoes worked well enough for a light hike, but they would never work for tennis. "I didn't bring shoes..."

"What size?"

"Eleven."

Sam stepped over and placed his foot along side his uncle's. They were the same size.

"Wow." Oscar said.

"I think I have something that will work." Sam said, looking extremely pleased. He loped from the room, leaving Oscar with Brenda.

She looked at him sidelong through long bangs and smiled. "Thanks a lot Mr. Goldman. I really appreciate it."

"Well you're welcome. I'm sure it will be fun. " Oscar replied, realizing it was the first time he had heard her voice. "You can call me Oscar by the way."

She nodded.

"I love doubles." he added.

"Does Jaime have shoes?"

"No..." Oscar replied, glancing at Brenda's feet. "But I'll tell you...her feet are way bigger than yours. She'll probably play barefoot."

"Barefoot?" Brenda blurted.

"Yeah. She's...tough."

When Sam returned with a pair of suitably enormous tennis shoes, moderately scuffed and fortunately not too smelly, Oscar slipped one on and found it fit nicely.

Oscar chuckled. "I guess the next time I see you you'll be taller than me."

"Maybe." Sam replied, taking in Oscar's height admiringly. "Cool."


	10. Chapter 10

The arrival of the two women an hour later was announced loudly by Fred and Ginger. Oscar could tell immediately that Jaime had worked her particular magic. They both wore the look of women who had enjoyed a good cathartic gossip, and he couldn't help but wonder how much his foibles had been used as social lubricant. Best not to think about it, he decided.

Jaime clapped her hands together at the prospect of tennis, and immediately headed to the bedroom to change, Oscar following behind her. She chose the sole skirt in her suitcase, preferring it to her somewhat binding jeans. Oscar, already in his multi-purpose uniform of khaki pants and pale blue button down shirt, threw himself on the bed and folded his hands behind his head.

"You won her over, didn't you?"

"I believe I did." She lifted her chin and gave him a satisfied smile.

"That's my girl - I knew you would. So…what was the problem, anyway -if you can tell me, that is?"

"Oh...she was just looking out for you, in an odd way."

He rolled his eyes.

"You know," Jaime said, contemplating a loose, casual blouse, "being an only child it's hard for me to relate… but I always get the feeling that sibling relationships get set on day one, and then stay like that forever. She's your big sister - she frets about you, thinks you can't take care of yourself, and you roll your eyes."

"That's probably true." Oscar nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe it's time I grew out of that."

"Maybe. Do you think you could?"

"I don't know." Oscar said, frowning thoughtfully. "Can't hurt me to try."

And... did you accomplish _your_ mission?" Jaime asked, sitting on the bed beside him, fixing her hair into a ponytail. "I'm dying to know."

"I did. I went to talk to Bruce...I had no idea where to start and he just offered it up - right away. He and Carol had been planning a surprise party for Dennis and Judy because their birthdays are on the same day."

Jaime laughed. "Perfect! And you're convinced that's one hundred percent the reason for the secret visits?"

"I'm convinced."

"Boy, is that a relief!"

"And I had a little talk with Katie." he added.

"You did?" She gasped, her eyes wide, "I hope you didn't..."

"No, I did not talk to her like she was a hardened old OSI agent." he interrupted. "I was very gentle and careful and she seemed better afterward. You'll see for yourself."

"Well. I am impressed!" Jaime replied, patting his chest.

"And then Bruce talked to her."

"Oh good. I guess you're not the boss for nothing, huh?" She leaned down to kiss him. "Oh -" she added, "I hope you don't mind, but we're taking everybody out for dinner tonight."

"Are we now?" He put arms around her and gave her a squeeze. "That's a good idea. I'm all for it. Oh...I have my own confession."

"What?"

"We're uh...buying a coffee table from Bruce. He'll make us whatever we want. We should talk to him about it."

"A coffee table? Really?" Jaime mused. "How did that happen?"

"Let's just say it represents a momentary lapse in courage on my part."

"So…if you were really feeling timid you would have ordered us up some bedside tables too? Because that's what we really need."

"I'm sure that could be arranged."

"If we need a new couch I'll be sure to throw you into some really delicate social situation. This is good to know."

"You've got my number Babe."

The moment they opened their bedroom door they could hear the sound of domestic unrest burgeoning in the kitchen – and judging by the high whining sound, it had something to do with Katie. Oscar was horrified – so soon on the tail of his boast.

"You're too little." Sam spat. "You can hardly even hold the racket."

"Can too!" Katie shot back.

"Honey." Judy said soothingly, "You got to go on a hike with Oscar and Jaime yesterday, and it's Sam's turn to spend some time with them."

"You can be ball boy." Sam offered in a resentful tone.

"I don't _want_ to be ball boy!"

"I think that's a pretty nice offer.' Judy cajoled. "He didn't even want you to come a minute ago."

"How about ball girl?" Jaime suggested from the doorway. "A good ball girl is worth her weight in gold."

All three turned, Judy and Sam with hopeful looks on their faces.

"Really?" Katie asked, her eyes round.

"Uh huh. You have to be athletic too - fast and observant. It's a great way to begin your tennis career. You can watch the game from the side and learn about it. That's how I first got interested in tennis."

"Really?" Katie repeated.

"Yup. I was ball girl for two local tournaments in Ojai when I was ten. You'd make a terrific ball girl, I just know it."

Warmed by the glow of Jaime's approval, she smiled. "Kay."

It was boys against girls - and the game proved to be more intense and competitive than either Oscar or Jaime had imagined. Brenda had taken lessons and had decent skills. Sam was more free form in his style, but he was quick and strong and very determined. When he nearly careened into Oscar for the fourth time in five minutes, Oscar took him by the shoulders.

"Sammy, the point of doubles is that both players hit the ball. If it's coming anywhere near me, you can let me get it, okay?"

"Sorry Uncle Oscar. Brenda always has me running and it's sort of a habit." Sam panted, sweating already. "I just really want to beat them."

Oscar glanced at their competitors. They looked unnervingly calm. "If we're going to have a chance, we've got to keep cool heads."

"Right." Sam said, nodding seriously.

"But you've got to know, kid, she beats me every day of the week."

"Okay." Sam replied with a grin, "I'll try not to cry."

As Oscar filled Sam in on the fundamentals of proper positioning for doubles, Jaime and Brenda waited in perfect assurance that their teamwork was sound.

"You're pretty darned good, Brenda."

"Thanks." the girl replied, her voice clear and plainly audible for the first time since they'd met. Her cheeks were rosy and she was exhilarated. "I'd love any tips you can give me Jaime." Minutes earlier, as they walked to the community center together, Jaime had wondered if she should commiserate with Brenda over her parents' divorce, but now she was glad she hadn't. She remembered herself at sixteen - how she hated the looks of pity and discomfort she saw in the eyes of everyone in Ojai after her mother and father had been killed. All she wanted was for people to be normal around her.

"Let's get 'em." she growled.

Brenda grinned and her eyes sparkled.

Katie squatted attentively on the sidelines, blasting from her position any time a ball settled by the net. She was an excellent ball girl - not once was the server left empty handed. She was not even handed in her loyalties however, rooting loudly for the girls' team, shouting encouragement while celebrating failures on the other side. Oscar and Sam lost the first game badly, edged into respectability in the second, and by the third game they were giving their opponents a run for their money. Sam was a quick learner and responded well to Oscar's coaching.

When Jaime gave Brenda a few minor pointers on forecourt tactics, the women took the lead again and never looked back. Then there was the inevitable moment when Jaime hit the ball too hard. Oscar knew it was coming, because it happened at least once in every time they played. She had always tended to overcompensate on her backhand, but now if she wasn't careful the consequences were alarming. It happened at the point when she was entirely consumed by the game - her jaw set and her eyes blazing. She took a running backhand at the far left and sent the ball back at light speed. Not wanting Sam near it Oscar attempted a return at the net, choking his racket with both hands. He was immediately disarmed, his racket flung to the back of the court, the ball disappearing high in the air overhead.

"Holy..." said Sam, gaping skyward.

"That's what happens when you play with the pros." Oscar said, with a regretful shake of his head.

Jaime received a similar response from Brenda on the other side of the net. She could only shrug. Katie hooted in delight and clapped.

After a strenuous hour and a half, the four players met at the net and shook hands. All of them would need a shower before going out to dinner.

"We will be demanding a rematch." Oscar said sternly.

"And you will regret it." Brenda said, equally sternly, and they all laughed at a joke coming from such an unexpected quarter.

Walking beside him, Oscar observed his nephew from the corner of his eye. The boy was a classic teenage combination of intense selfmconsciousness and perfect un-self consciousness. His hair covered his face and he hunched forward, as though he was trying to hide into himself. His stride was conspicuously long and ungainly, and he bobbed alongside Oscar like a cork on rough water. Oscar knew just how he felt. He remembered all too well what it was like to be overtaken by limbs that seemed to have grown two inches in the night, the pain in his knees sometimes keeping him awake. He'd get out of bed feeling like a baby giraffe rising to its feet for the first time. He was nagged by his father for his tendency to slouch, and now Jaime had picked up where Dad had left off. It seemed one was never entirely free of teenage agonies.

Young Sam had been a source of worry for Judy over the last couple of years - Oscar had heard much about him in the weekly phone calls. He had been impossible when he was fourteen - he had gotten drunk several times with a particularly unsavory friend (once on Creme de Menthe no less - Oscar felt ill to think of it) and his marks suffered. At home he was persistently, silently obstructive. Now he was doing better. He and the unsavory friend had parted ways and he seemed to be enjoying school again. At home he was much easier to be around - if a little quiet. Judy's main concern now was that he was getting too serious with Brenda, and as much as she liked her, they were far too young to be serious.

Oscar regretted not spending more time with him when he was still little. Sam had idolized his uncle when he was seven, but now he could doubtless see him for the disappointing mortal he was.

Unable to come up with any clever means of conversing with him, Oscar asked a question that Sam had doubtless been asked by too many adults already. "So...you have any idea what you're going to do after school, Sam?"

"Well, yeah." Sam replied readily, with a half grin, "but Mom says you won't like me anymore..."

"What?" Oscar frowned.

"Well I think I want to be a journalist, and Mom says you hate journalists."

"I don't hate journalists." Oscar said, trying hard to disguise his irritation. "Your mother gets some peculiar ideas. I admit, I don't love them when I've got one of them on my tail, but otherwise I think it's a fine profession. An important one."

"Really?" Sam asked, looking hopeful.

"Sure. I read the paper like everyone else - it helps me figure out what's going on right under my own nose. I don't know where I'd be without The New York Times every morning. What made you decide on journalism?"

"Career counselor. I was having a hard time figuring out what I might want to do because I was interested in a bunch of things and I couldn't narrow it down. She told me about journalism, because that way you can do it all. She said I'm a good writer too, but I don't know." He shrugged modestly.

"Does it feel right to you?"

"Maybe. I don't know yet. But it sounds kind of cool. I've been thinking about it, doing some reading. And you get to travel too."

"Well, if I can put my two cents worth in, just make sure you're passionate about it. It doesn't really matter what you do, as long as you love it."

Sam nodded soberly. "Are you passionate about your work?"

"Mmm..." Oscar said, casting his eyes upward. "I have been. Some would say obsessive. Now I think I have... a new passion." He tilted his head in the direction of Jaime, walking with Brenda just behind them.

Sam nodded again, smiling a little. "She's really cool." he said.

"She is really cool." Oscar agreed.

He put his arm around the young man's slender shoulders. "And while I'm dispensing free advice, may I suggest you take a little while after school, maybe see the world, enjoy your freedom? I didn't do that and I regret it."

"Yeah, I was kind of thinking I wanted to go to Europe."

"Well, if you end up in DC –as it seems to me every young journalist ought to - you're more than welcome to stay with us."

"Really?" Sam asked, apparently amazed. He was moved once again to use his universal term for all things admirable. "Cool."


	11. Chapter 11

Judy booked a table at _Jake's Famous Crawfish_ downtown, an old standby for those seeking great seafood. Once everyone was seated and orders were placed Oscar got to his feet. He took a moment to survey his family. An unlikely bunch, they were – the tall dark serious faction and the irrepressible red headed faction punctuated by one dazzling blonde. They were looking at him expectantly, hands hovering near their glasses. In their faces he saw love, amusement, tolerance, and from some quarters, even a little admiration.

"Thirty-eight years ago today, Judy and I lost a brother, and you all missed knowing a wonderful guy. I still miss him. I've imagined him so many times over the years, wondering who he might have become, what he would have done with his life, whether he would have married, who his children might have been. I have wished thousands of times that he was still with us – especially when I need his advice. Sam's absence has been a huge part of my life."

He paused, a wistful smile curling his lips. "We've waited for this evening for a long time, when we could finally say goodbye to him properly." Oscar picked up his glass, which signaled everyone else to do the same. "Now we're all here together at last, oddly… I find I'm compelled to make a different kind of toast."

Five glasses, held over the center of the table, glimmered in the low light. Five hushed people listened carefully, expectantly. They had indeed waited for this moment for a very long time.

"It's far too easy in life to focus on what you_ haven't_ got, instead of what you _have_ got." Oscar continued. "Nineteen forty-one is a long time ago, and instead of absence, I would like to celebrate… _presence_." Pausing for dramatic effect, he then continued, "All these years I have had a wonderful presence in my life - an ally, an advocate, a confidant, a co-conspirator. I know that to her family, she's all that and more – and I think we can all agree," Oscar's smile widened, "that in her dour and sometimes sarcastic way, she makes our lives infinitely better. Here's to…your mother, your wife, your sister-in-law, your friend, my sister….Judy."

Wearing a bemused frown for much of the speech, Judy's jaw dropped as she realized she truly was the subject of the toast.

"To Judy!" "To Mom!" rang out through the restaurant. The unexpected switch of subject from an ancient family tragedy to a living person seated at the table made the enthusiasm of the toast all that much more vivid. Katie clinked her apple juice so emphatically she spilled a good portion of it.

Oscar sat down and kissed his sister's cheek, noting that his tribute seemed to have triggered a hot flash. "You toast Sam." he murmured.

She stood, flustered, fanning herself. Jaime slung her arm around Oscar's neck and smiled at him proudly.

"Well gosh!" Judy stammered. "That was so sweet, dear brother. And unexpected. Dour and sarcastic huh?" Looking to Jaime she smiled sheepishly. "I've got to go some distance before I earn that kind of toast from you."

Jaime was about to protest, but Judy was already thinking of her brother. She stood tall and raised her glass. "Sam would have been sixty this year, and I'm sad to say I find it impossible to imagine him at sixty. When we last saw him, he was a bright–eyed youth. Sam was kind, witty, handsome, sincere, trustworthy, responsible, and mature beyond his years. In fact, he was so much of all those things he's left Oscar and me with a lifelong inferiority complex. Hasn't he Bup?"

"Oh yes." Oscar chuckled.

"Thanks a lot Sam." Judy said, smiling heavenward. When she looked down, her eyes were shining. "His middle name was Amshel – and Amshel means angel. Sam has been the angel on my shoulder my whole life – telling me to always do my best. We all carry Sam with us, one way or another…through our genes, or memories or stories – that's the way we keep our family angel with us." Jaime, watching Oscar out of the corner of her eye, noted he was blinking a lot and clenching his jaw. Judy raised her glass, and said quietly, "To Samuel Amshel Goldman – may he finally rest in peace."

This toast was sober and sincere. "To Sam." they all said.

Judy was tucking her skirt, about to sit down, when she changed her mind and raised her glass once more. "Oh - speaking of family…" She hesitated and leaned down to whisper into Oscar's ear. He nodded.

"I have the permission from the boss of everything here, to tell you all it's thanks to Jaime that we finally know what happened to Sam – and I think she might tell us all about it…?" She looked again to Oscar for assent, and once again he nodded. The jaws of Bruce and Sam and Katie all dropped at the same moment. Before they could collect themselves, Judy added, "But first, there's something else – this is important, so pay attention - I would like to congratulate my brother on having made the best decision of his life by marrying this… truly lovely woman." She gestured to Jaime with an affectionate smile. "I feel truly privileged to count her as one of us now. To Jaime!"

"To Jaime!" They all cried in unison, Oscar's voice the loudest.

"Well done, Sis." he murmured.

"Thanks Bup. Are you a little teary?" Oh…." Judy said, giving him a supportive squeeze.

"Why do you call him that?" Katie blurted from across the table.

"Well, when he was a baby, before he could talk, that's what he said all the time 'bup, bup, bup.' So Mother called him Buppy."

Katie grinned. "That's a silly name." she said.

"It certainly is." Oscar grumbled. "And then I made the mistake of telling Jaime that story, and now she calls me that too."

"And we do it…" Jaime added, looking to Judy, "because he gets this tragic look on his face…"

"There it is!" Judy laughed, clapping her hands together. Simultaneously the two women leaned from either side to kiss his cheek. Oscar made a great show of eye rolling and sighing, but Jaime could tell he loved it.

Another family dinner – and this time Jaime was part of the family. She told her amazed audience about her mission to find Sam, and then Oscar and Judy told stories – stories of Sam - often repeated and well known by everyone at the table, but that didn't matter. There were no silences tonight. Jaime realized how few these moments must be in family life – those very special occasions when diverse needs and moods come second to pure harmony. It was magical.

After they had arrived back home and Katie had been sent to bed and Sam had retired to his "lair", the four adults sat up late, joined for some of that time by Carl. Judy excitedly told Oscar about the results of her last dig - a particularly well preserved campsite in a cave in Kenya – upwards of seven thousand years old. Despite her own interest in ancient native cultures, much of the conversation was opaque to Jaime – full of technical jargon – so she asked lots of questions, which Judy answered willingly. Carl became animated for the first time that weekend, emphasizing the importance of Judy's find. The night ended with some wild talk of a group trip to see the site firsthand - Jaime was thrilled at the prospect.

xxxx

Mid Monday morning their hosts dropped Oscar and Jaime off at the airport. Judy was tearful and grateful for the visit and regretful they did not see more of each other. Life was so short, after all. Oscar and Jaime played along, secretly pleased that they had already agreed to attend her birthday party in February.

"I know it's coming up fast, but maybe we should try for Christmas." Bruce said, sidling up to Jaime. "You and I could show them how it's done. Neither of them has a _clue._"

"I'm all for it!" Jaime grinned.

After hugs and goodbyes, they parted company.

Seated in the departure lounge, Oscar became transfixed by a woman struggling with an unhappy infant. It bellowed and wriggled and kicked and nothing could be done to comfort it. The mother looked like she was on the losing end of a wrestling match with a vicious midget. There was a slick of tears on its cheeks and a slick of snot running from its nose and a slick of drool on its chin. Jaime elbowed him. "Hey – I think that poor woman has enough on her plate without you staring at her."

"Oh, was I?" Oscar said, pausing to smile guiltily at the poor thing before looking away.

"I sure hope those two aren't on our flight." she muttered.

"You mean..." Oscar asked, amazed, "that's bugging you?"

"Well yeah!" Jaime said adamantly. "I love kids, Oscar, but I'm not crazy. Nobody enjoys a screaming baby."

"That's good to know." Oscar replied, relieved. "I thought it was just me."

They sat quietly, thinking their own thoughts, trying to shut out the wailing and snuffling – which then unfortunately followed them on the plane and was seated somewhere behind them.

Gripping his knees with his hands, sitting bolt upright, Oscar looked unusually nervous as the plane took off.

"What's the matter?" Jaime called out over the roar of the engine, 'Sudden fear of flying?"

"No." he said tersely, and looked straight ahead.

When the plane had pushed up through the clouds and leveled off in clear blue skies, the roar quieted and so did the fretful child. Conversation was once again possible. Oscar let out a big uneasy sigh and slapped his hands decisively on his thighs. "So, Babe," he said, "I think we have to get started."

"Started what?" she asked absently, flipping through the in-flight magazine. "You're not back at work already, are you?"

"Babies." he blurted, staring straight ahead. "But here's where we have a problem. I'd like it to happen before I get much older, but with you in school…"

"Wait…wait…wait a minute." Jaime interjected. "What?"

"Babies." he repeated, glancing at her. "Well…one to start, anyway."

"You're talking about us having a baby?" The magazine slipped through her fingers to the floor and she stared at him, wide eyed.

"That's right. But I'm worried about your thesis, and I'll have to have a little wrestling match with the NSB…"

Jaime shifted in her seat to face him better. "Bup, just back up a minute. You want a _baby_?"

"Yes!" he replied, emphatically, irritably. Was he not making himself clear?

Her eyes were narrowed in suspicion, as though he might be making a tasteless joke. "You don't look like you want a baby. You look terrified."

"I am terrified!" he affirmed. "But the things in life that are most worth doing are usually the terrifying ones."

"Even after this weekend? Even after…" she tilted her head toward the intermittent fussings behind them. The suspicious expression was taking on a tinge of amazement.

"That's what I'm saying." he replied, with exaggerated patience. "I was watching you with those kids – actually the way you always are with kids - how easily you relate to them, how well you understand them. Somebody would be so lucky to have you as their mother, and I don't want to deprive them."

Jaime blinked several times, her incredulity lifting into belief. "Buppy, that is just about the sweetest thing…" Tucking her hand in the crook of his arm, she cuddled into him and rested her cheek on his shoulder. "But I don't want you to do it just for me. We have to both want it."

He was still stiff and nervous and shook his head so abruptly it could have been mistaken for a twitch. "I know. I wouldn't do that. I think…I …think…it's what I want."

She couldn't help but laugh at his proximity to hyperventilation. In his own defense, he added, "It's just…a big decision that's all…but I would like a child in our lives. This weekend helped me see that…even if I did want to throttle Katie a couple of times."

Now she was smiling – a half tender, half amazed smile, and her eyes were shining. Looking at her, Oscar felt a happy sort of pain grip his chest – when it came right down to it he lived to please her. He smiled and kissed her and told himself to breathe. "But I'm going to need your help, because I don't know anything about kids, or how to burp babies or any of it."

"We'll figure it out as we go along." Jaime replied softly. "You'll be a terrific father. I might not have said that five years ago, but now…you're going to be great."

He nodded uncertainly. "I hope you're right. I'm not quite sure how we should time it. If you got pregnant right away, you'd have the baby in…what…August? September? And then that would mess up your return to school. I'll have to re-figure my work life, and we'll probably need some help…."

At that moment the demon infant behind them let out an astonishing, full-throated scream, incorporating into it a growl and a gurgle, halting with a hiccup. They stared at each other – speechless, wide-eyed and horrified.

"Is it too late to change my mind?" he bleated.

"'Fraid so."

"Will ours scream like that?"

"Louder."

"Will it be cute, at least?"

"It will look like Winston Churchill."

"For its whole life?"

Jaime laughed and took his hand in hers, running her thumb thoughtfully over his knuckles. This was an incredible turn of events - a long held dream, willingly abandoned, was now once again a possibility. Strangely, at this minute, the idea was not entirely welcome. She had laid out a nice path for her future, and a child would change everything. But still…

"What's the matter?" he said.

"Not a thing… but…want to know something funny?"

"Sure."

"I'm not quite ready."

"You're not?" Oscar was aghast – he had been so sure he was the single impediment to her becoming a mother.

"I think maybe I want to be a newlywed for a little longer."

"Really? You're not sick of me yet?"

"Nope. In fact…" the fog of conflicting emotions was starting to clear, and she thought she could see what she her own heart better. "I want more time together before we invite a distracting little bundle of joy into the mix."

"That…amazes me."

"Well, I'm having fun, aren't you?"

"Of course!"

"I think we'd have fun with a baby too, but it will be different."

"Do you think we can do it? Whenever we get to it, that is?" Oscar asked anxiously, "Handle it, I mean?"

"Are you kidding me?" Jaime chortled, "You and I can handle anything. I think that's pretty clear."

He nodded. "That's true. But… will we have any time for each other…?"

"It's a good question." Part of her wanted to soft sell of what she figured were the hard realities of having children – but that wouldn't be fair. She'd seen more than one set of friends short on sleep, covered in baby food, women driven half crazy by the terrible twos – those first few years were taxing. "It won't be easy, but I think we can work it out." Now she was feeling a hint of excitement. "I'll tell you what." She looked to the ceiling as she calculated. "We could start this little project next…October, or November. If all goes well, and I get pregnant right away… and that's a big 'if'…that will give me time to get through grad school. And then… when little Winston graduates from high school, you'll be sixty-eight. Not even seventy!"

"Yikes." Oscar said.

"One year doesn't make much of a difference, really, does it?"

"I suppose not."

"And if it happens, great. And if it doesn't happen, it's still going to be great." She nodded decisively, and found that she really meant it. Either way, she loved her life.

"No matter what." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly.

"No matter what." she echoed.


End file.
